Sins of the Fathers
by nariya
Summary: Now complete! An epic tale of romance and intrigue, of loves lost and found, centring on Folken's dealings with Asturia, and spanning 12 years of Gaean history. NOTE: Now R-rated for sex and language
1. Lady in Waiting

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**Important note** for new readers who may have been drawn to this story by its R rating. Like the characters, this story "grows up" as it progresses. Part I of this fic is no more than PG, mainly because the characters are all very young when it starts. Part II is PG-13 for language and mild sexual references, and only Part III really merits the R rating. However it is a single three-part story rather than a trilogy, so I am stuck with the house rule of maximum rating for the whole.

Please do not be put off by this story featuring an invented character. In fact, in "City of Intrigue", Millerna has a dark-haired companion/serving-woman, and given Meiden Fassa's ambitions for his son it seems to me quite plausible that if he had a daughter he would find her a position close to the royal family. Unless someone can prove otherwise, I think my explanation of her identity is as good as any!

Disclaimer: The Vision of Escaflowne is owned by Sunrise and Bandai Entertainment. No copyright infringement is intended by this not-for-profit story, although the author would like to point out that this doesn't mean that others can freely copy this text and claim it as their own!

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PART ONE: HEARTS

> In courtesy I'd have her chiefly learned;  
Hearts are not had as a gift but hearts are earned  
By those that are not entirely beautiful.
> 
> W. B. Yeats, 'A Prayer for My Daughter'

'Carenza, play something for us. I'm bored.'

Carenza bit back a sarcastic remark and took up her lute. She had been so proud and excited when she was asked to be lady-in-waiting to the Asturian princesses; it was like gaining three sisters at once. Sometimes, though, it seemed she was little more than a privileged servant. On the other hand, it wasn't really Marlene's fault. She was only twelve, which from Carenza's lofty vantage point of almost fourteen made her still a child.

'What would you like, your highness?'

The golden-haired princess cocked her head on one side and appeared to consider.

'How about...'The Charge of the Knights of Caeli' ?'

What a surprise. It was only the fifth time she had asked for it today.

'Very well.'

She bent her head over the instrument, concentrating on the tricky fingering needed for the opening bars. Three-year-old Princess Millerna scrambled to her feet, clutching a china-headed doll.

'Loulo and me want 'Fairy Dance'. La-la, la-laa-la,' she crooned, totally off-key.

'Your big sister did ask first...'

Millerna's lower lip trembled and tears welled up in her enormous blue eyes.

'All right,' Carenza sighed. 'Two verses of the Fairy Dance, then I'll play your sister's song.'

'Fine,' muttered Marlene. 'Let the little brat get her own way as usual.' She flounced out onto the balcony in a rustle of powder-blue frills. 

'Don't mind her,' said Eries. 'She's just impatient for the guests' arrival.'

Carenza paused with her fingers hovering over the strings.

'Why? It's just the King of Fanelia coming on some diplomatic mission.'

'Haven't you heard? He's bringing his son and heir this time. Father and he are planning to betroth the prince to one of us.'

Carenza frowned. The middle princess was the quietest and most sensible of the three, and though only nine, seemed already to be in her widowed father's confidence.

'I thought Marlene was already betrothed to Duke Mahad dar Freid?'

'Not formally. And besides, Marlene says he's so old he'll probably die before they ever get married.'

At that moment Marlene burst into the room.

'They're here! Oh, do come see!'

Carenza and Eries followed her onto the balcony. Below them, the Fanelian entourage were riding into the courtyard. They soon spotted the king, a tall dark-haired man astride one of the camel-like beasts the Fanelians rode instead of horses. At his side was a slender youth with silver hair.

'He is rather handsome, isn't he?' Carenza sighed.

Marlene gave her a mocking look.

'I don't know why you're so interested, Carenza Fassa - princes only ever marry princesses, not merchants' daughters.'

Carenza stuck her tongue out for want of a more witty retort, and instantly regretted it. The prince would choose that very moment to look up at the balcony. She blushed as deeply as her olive complexion would allow, and fled into the safety of the house, almost running into the governess who was heading out onto the balcony.

'Come along, girls, your father has granted King Goau an immediate audience, and you must be there to greet our guests.'

Of course it took more than a few minutes to get all three princesses ready for a royal audience, and by the time they reached the throne room, the trumpets were already blaring. Marlene and Eries hurried to take their places on smaller thrones either side of their father, whilst the governess sat to one side with little Millerna on her lap. Carenza tried to slip discreetly amongst the crowd of courtiers, but the senior ladies-in-waiting formed a wall of brocade skirts that she could not breach without an embarrassing scuffle. 

Cursing under her breath she sidled into the central aisle and tried to find a gap in the ranks of Asturian nobility. To her horror the Fanelian entourage were halfway down the aisle by now. As she finally slipped into a space between two courtiers, the party drew level with her. A silver-haired boy of about her own age - surely the same prince she had glimpsed from the balcony - glanced at her sidelong, trying to suppress a grin. Carenza's heart sank into her embroidered shoes. Was it her destiny to always look a fool in front of the Fanelian prince? Wrapped in her own misery, she barely noticed the formal introductions being made. 

'...And in honour of our guests,' King Aston went on, 'We shall hold a ball three days hence.'

Carenza sighed. A ball. Wonderful. Another opportunity for her to make an utter fool of herself in public. Not to mention having to put up with Marlene's crowing for three whole days. Her only compensation was that Dryden might be allowed to attend. Her younger brother was very grown-up for a lad of nine and cleverer than all three princesses put together, which made him one of the few people she could have a sensible conversation with these days.

After the formal audience was over, Carenza collected her lute and made her way to the summerhouse. She felt almost too melancholy to play, but her mood demanded music and there was no-one to play for her when she asked it. After a while she began to sing.

> 'When I behold the lark arise   
with wings of gold for heaven's height,   
to drop at last from flooded skies,   
lost in its fullness of delight,   
such sweetness spreads upon the day   
I envy those who share the glee.   
My heart's so filled with love's dismay   
I wait its breaking suddenly.'

She strummed the last chord and let the lute fall silent.

'That was...beautiful.'

A young man was leaning against the entrance to the summerhouse, silhouetted against the sky. 

'May I come in, my lady?' he asked.

She nodded, too startled to reply.

'I saw you at court,' he went on, 'but we haven't been introduced. I am Folken Lacour de Fanel, Crown Prince of Fanelia, etcetera, etcetera...' He made a flowery gesture with one hand, grinning.

Carenza coloured. Him, of all people!

'M-my name is Carenza Ailea Fassa. My father is one of King Astons's councillors.'

'It is an honour to meet you, my lady.' 

'The honour is all mine.' She laid the lute carefully on the bench beside her. 'And please, just call me Carenza; I'm not a noblewoman, only a merchant's daughter.'

'All right - Carenza the merchant's daughter. Tell me, did you write that song yourself?'

'What - oh, no...I found it in an book. It's very old, but I like it a lot.' What am I saying? I sound like Millerna. All right, take a deep breath and try to act like a sophisticated young woman for once.

'I hear that the forests of Fanelia are delightful in spring.' Good; a nice safe topic of conversation.

'They are indeed. Perhaps you will have a chance to see them for yourself one day.'

'That would be lovely, except...isn't it dangerous, with all those dragons roaming loose?'

Prince Folken's garnet-coloured eyes narrowed. Oh dear, thought Carenza, what have I said wrong now?

'Of-of course Asturia has its own charms,' she went on hastily. 'The foothills of the Floresta Mountains are renowned for their wildflowers, and Palas itself has many fine formal gardens...'

To her relief the prince seemed to relax, and they talked for a while about inconsequential things, like the weather and the prospects for the next harvest. He told her about his little brother, Van, and she told him about Dryden, recommending a storybook that Dryden had enjoyed when he was Van's age. 

After a while, she couldn't help saying, 'So, which of the princesses are you going to marry?' She regretted the words almost as soon as they were out of her mouth. _Stupid, stupid, stupid!_

Prince Folken smiled ruefully.

'You as well? Everyone seems very keen to marry me off all of a sudden.' 

Oh well, it's too late to change the subject now, she thought. At least he doesn't look so cross this time. She took a deep breath.

'It's just that Marlene and Eries are my friends and, well, that is why your father brought you here, isn't it? To choose between them?'

'I really don't know that I would choose either one of them.' He ran a hand through his pale hair, which looked almost blue in the dim light of the summerhouse.

'You don't like the princesses? They are really very pretty.'

'I suppose they are, if you like that sort of thing.'

'What sort of thing?'

'You know. Blonde curls, big blue eyes, frills and flounces and costas and costas of lace...' He sighed.

Carenza smiled.

'It sounds like you're describing Loulo.'

'Who's that?'

'Princess Millerna's doll. She has a china head and cleverly-weighted eyes that close when you lie her down and open when you lift her up again.'

Prince Folken laughed, and clasped her hand.

'Oh, Carenza! I shall never be able to look any of the princesses in the eye again,' he spluttered. 'Princess Loulo...'

Carenza felt dizzy. He was holding her hand- 

'Prince Folken? Your Highness?' The shouts were muffled by distance, but their import was clear.

He looked at her, a tear trickling from the corner of his right eye, and gently released her hand.

'Damn, they've found me already. I'd better go,' he said, wiping his eyes. 'Thank you for a pleasant hour away from the stuffiness of court affairs.' He bowed, and before Carenza could say a word, he turned and left.

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**Author's notes**:

In her excellent Dryden shrine, [Merchant Prince][1], Sarah-neko speculates on how Dryden picked up his 'New Man' attitude to women, so I created an older sister as his role-model. And being a big Jane Austen fan, I placed her in the Asturian court as a wry observer on the follies of the younger generation. As for the Folken strand of the story, I thought he deserved a little shoujo romance of his own, and none of the existing female characters really fit the bill without major changes to their background. I hope this dovetails neatly into the existing plot of 'Vision of Escaflowne' whilst explaining some of the past behaviour of certain characters.

P.S. The poetry is not mine. It is an extract from 'Can vei la lauzeta' by Bernart de Ventadorn, a twelfth-century troubadour.

   [1]: http://members.tripod.com/sarahneko/dryden/



	2. Sharper than a Serpent's Tooth

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Disclaimer: The Vision of Escaflowne is owned by Sunrise and Bandai Entertainment. No copyright infringement is intended by this not-for-profit story, although the author would like to point out that this doesn't mean that others can freely copy this text and claim it as their own!

* * * * * * * * * * *

To Carenza's delight, the next day brought her father back to the capital with her brother Dryden in tow. She excused herself from the princesses' presence, although it was hardly necessary now that Marlene had the distraction of planning her ensemble for the coming ball. She headed for her father's suite, which was in the opposite wing of the royal palace. Although it was modest in size compared to the great state rooms, Meiden Fassa had furnished it in royal splendour. Every inch of wood was painted or lacquered or gilded, the furniture was upholstered in rose-and-white silk brocade, and curtains of heavy gold velvet framed the tall windows. A vast portrait of her father hung over the white marble fireplace.

'Father?'

A chambermaid looked up from where she was laying a fire in the grate.

'The master's with his Majesty the King, ma'am. I'll be done and out of your way in a minute.'

'That's all right. Have you seen my brother?'

'In the master's study, ma'am.'

Carenza slid back one of the pair of doors dividing the study from the main salon. Dryden was sitting on the floor, poring over an enormous atlas.

'I might have known I'd find you in here,' she said. 'Don't you ever stop reading?'

Dryden looked up through dark, wayward curls.

'I'm trying to work out how many countries Zaibach has conquered since Emperor Dornkirk took over. These old maps show some of them.'

'Why are you so interested in Zaibach all of a sudden?' She pulled the door to behind her and sat down next to him.

'I heard Father talking about it the other day. About how big the Empire has gotten and how small Asturia is in comparison.'

'Y-you don't think Zaibach would try to conquer Asturia, do you?'

Dryden shrugged.

'Father thinks we're still more useful to them as allies. We buy goods from countries outside the Empire and trade them to Zaibach. If Zaibach conquered us, they'd have to trade directly with those countries, and since most of them don't like Zaibach, the Empire would probably have to conquer them too if it wanted the goods at a reasonable price.'

'So, until Zaibach is powerful enough to conquer the world, we're safe.'

'That's about the size of it, sis.'

She didn't think it sounded very reassuring. The shaded area on the northern half of the map, marking the extent of the Zaibach Empire, looked awfully large.

The sliding doors rattled as the outer door of the apartment was opened.

'Sounds like Father is back,' Dryden whispered.

'No, I hear two voices. There's someone with him.'

'Who is it?'

'Sounds like...King Aston.'

'The king? What's he doing here?'

'Shush, stupid! Let's listen, and we'll find out.'

They peered through the chink between the double doors of the study. Sure enough, there was King Aston, standing by the window looking out over the gardens.

'Thank you for coming to my modest apartments, your Majesty. Some of my fellow councillors are a little...squeamish about the political realities we have to face.'

'Such as?'

'We are a small realm, your Majesty, and our wealth is built upon a fragile web of trade. Trade in silks and furs, in spices, wines, and other, less tangible, goods. Like filial duty.'

'Get to the point, Fassa. I'm a busy man.'

'Your majesty, your fair daughters are perhaps our most priceless commodity-'

The king turned round, his face pale.

'A commodity? Is that how you see them, _merchant_?'

Their father smiled placatingly.

'I meant no offence, your Majesty. Only recall that, without heirs male, the ruling of Asturia, if not its crown, will pass to the husband of one of your daughters. The future of our realm depends on the choices you make for their marriages.'

King Aston nodded. 'Go on.'

'Fanelia is a very small and, not to put too fine a point on it, backward country. Surely it is foolish to squander one of your daughters on this prince, however nobly descended, when there are far more important powers with whom one could be allied.' He glanced significantly at the northward-facing windows.

'You surely don't mean...'

'The empire is growing ever more powerful, your Majesty. Those who do not stand with it will surely fall.'

'Since when has Emperor Dornkirk been interested in marriage?'

Their father shrugged.

'He is not - but he cannot live forever. Sooner or later he must choose a successor, perhaps a young man in need of political support...'

'Know you of such a man?'

'Not yet - but my...contacts in the Empire are growing all the time. Rest assured that as soon as such a man is found, your Majesty will be the first to know of it.'

The king moved towards the door, his booted feet passing within inches of where the children watched.

'I'm sorry, Fassa, but I do not see the advantage of offending a neighbour, and I might add, an old friend, over the very distant possibility of a closer alliance with Zaibach.'

'As your Majesty pleases. I am but a humble advisor.'

'And your advice is ever welcome. Now, if you have made your point, I dare say I am wanted elsewhere.' He sighed. 'If only my dear Therese were still alive - she was so much better than I at the minutiae of social matters.'

'I will not impose upon your valuable time any longer, your Majesty.'

King Aston snorted, and Meiden hurried ahead of him to open the door to the corridor. The two children took advantage of the distraction to return to the atlas. When their father opened his study door they were innocently discussing trade routes with neighbouring kingdoms.

'So, how long have you two been here?'

'Only a short while,' Carenza said hurriedly.

'But you were in here when the king and I arrived - or have you found a secret passage behind my bookshelves?'

'Are there secret passages in the palace?' asked Dryden innocently.

Meiden sighed.

'How much did you hear?'

The children exchanged guilty glances. Carenza drew a deep breath. A partial truth was better than an outright lie.

'Only that the King wants to betroth one of his daughters to Prince Folken but you think he isn't good enough for them.'

'That's not what I said, Carenza. I merely suggested that Asturia has more important allies. I meant no disrespect to Fanelia or its prince.'

'Poor Eries!' Dryden exclaimed. 'I hope she does get the Fanelian prince and not some horrible old Zaibach general.'

'When you are older, Dryden, you will understand that sometimes we have to do things we do not like in order to protect our future. Now, promise me you will speak of this to no-one.'

'We promise, Father,' said Carenza.

'Dryden?'

'All right, I promise.'

'Now, assuming you two haven't been rifling through my desk drawers, I have a surprise for each of you.'

The surprises turned out to be a gold and amber parure for Carenza and a lacquered box of pens, inks and brushes for Dryden. Carenza put on the matching choker and pendant necklace and tried out the hair ornaments in the mirror, but the earrings were for pierced ears.

'Oh dear, I hadn't noticed that,' said her father. 'Perhaps you could have them done in time for the ball?'

'Perhaps.' She wasn't sure that she wanted her ears pierced; it sounded very painful.

'Well, you do look lovely in the rest of it, my dear. The amber brings out the golden tones in your eyes. Now, I really do have a lot of letters to write, so into the salon with the pair of you.'

He ushered them out of the study and closed the doors.

'You'd better sit at the table if you want to try out your new things,' Carenza pointed out to her brother. 'Father won't be pleased if you get ink on the carpet.'

Dryden put the box down on an occasional table and wandered over to the fireplace.

'He's trying to buy our love, like he buys everything else,' he grumbled.

'What do you mean?'

'You have more than enough jewellery, and I already have a writing set almost exactly like that one; he bought it me for my birthday. He doesn't even bother to think about his gifts any more. If he did, he would have remembered you don't have pierced ears.'

'Dryden that's not fair.' She glanced towards the study doors. 'Father works very hard. These gifts are just his way of saying sorry for not spending more time with us.'

'He always says time is money,' replied Dryden, deliberately raising his voice. 'So why can't he spend more time and less money on us?'

'I don't know, it's just one of those grown-up things, I guess. Look, why don't we take a walk down to the market? I need to get some new ribbons for my dancing shoes, and you can practise your Ezgardian on the stallholders.'

Dryden grinned.

'I prefer to wait until after they've tried to swindle you before I let them know I understand every word, but all right.'

Carenza couldn't help smiling. For all his criticism of their father, Dryden was a shrewd a businessman as Meiden ever was.

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Author's Note: This chapter gets its title from King Lear, Act I, Scene 4: "How sharper than a serpent's tooth it is, to have a thankless child."


	3. Wallflower

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Disclaimer: The Vision of Escaflowne is owned by Sunrise and Bandai Entertainment. No copyright infringement is intended by this not-for-profit story, although the author would like to point out that this doesn't mean that others can freely copy this text and claim it as their own!

* * * * * * * * * * *

Carenza sat on a fragile gilt-and-velvet chair, wishing she had never come to the ball. Her earlobes still stung from the piercing, and she felt an irrational urge to scratch the gold wires from her flesh, like a cat with a troublesome flea. To make things worse, Prince Folken had been dancing with either Marlene or Eries all evening, and it would soon be time for the children to go to bed and leave the grown-ups to their drinking and gossiping.

She couldn't blame Folken, of course. He was the guest of honour and the obvious partner for the two princesses, but it was sickening to see how Marlene fawned over him. If only she knew what Folken had said about her, that afternoon...Carenza hid her smiles behind her fan.

'Hello, sis!' Dryden plumped himself down on the next chair, which creaked in protest. 'Share the joke?'

'I, er, was just thinking how much Princess Marlene looks like a doll in that lacy gown,' Carenza smiled.

Dryden grinned back and twirled one of his own dark curls around his finger in imitation.

'She does too. That Prince is all right, though. Allen says he's stuck up, but I think he's just shy.'

'Allen?'

'The boy dancing with Eries. His family have an estate in the country, but they're in Palas for the season so they were invited to the ball.'

Carenza craned her neck to see the dancers better. For a moment her view was obstructed by a tall man in military dress, then he stepped to one side and she spotted Eries and her partner. The middle princess looked very pleased with herself, and who could blame her; this Allen was a very good-looking boy, with fair shoulder-length hair and delicate, almost girlish features. He seemed to be about the same age as Eries; a possible match? Don't be silly, she told herself. In all likelihood Eries is destined for Folken - which will upset Marlene no end. Only a duke for her, and mousy little Eries gets the prince.

Dryden yawned loudly. Carenza looked more closely at him and tutted. His face was flushed from more than just the heat of the crowded ballroom.

'How much punch have you had, brother?'

'Only two cups. Allen says-'

'It sounds to me like this Allen is a bad influence on you. What would Father say?'

Dryden made a rude noise.

'He's too busy sucking up to all the nobs to notice anything I do.'

'He _is_ the king's advisor, it's important that he keeps an ear to the ground. A bit of flattery elicits more gossip, that's all.'

Dryden shrugged.

'Why don't you go and wash your face?' Carenza sighed. 'That will keep you awake a bit longer.'

Her brother pulled a face but headed for the washroom.

'Carenza?'

She looked up. It was Prince Folken. Her mouth went dry.

'Your highness. H-how nice to meet you again.'

'May I have the pleasure of the next dance?'

'With me?'

'Unless you already have a partner? No, don't tell me, I'm too late-'

'Not at all,' she said hurriedly before he could back away. 'My card is...quite empty...' As I am sure you know if you have eyes in your head.

He held out his hand and she took it, hoping that he could not feel her trembling. By all the sea dragons of Asturia, please do not let me faint on the dancefloor. Though then he might have to catch me...

They took their places, and the orchestra began to play a lively air. For a while Carenza could think of nothing but the complex dance steps - one, two, and cross to the right, curtsey to your partner, and three, four, back to the left - until she saw Marlene glaring at her from across the room. The eldest princess was dancing with a middle-aged man; when they spun around she could see it was her own father. Meiden Fassa smiled unctuously and whispered something to the princess, who smiled back in a way Carenza thought most unbecoming in a girl young enough to be his daughter.

'Do you normally say so little to your dancing partner?' Folken asked as they passed one another.

'I prefer to stay silent and be thought a fool, than speak and prove it so,' she replied. I should have taken my own advice the other day, she added privately, then I would not be so tongue-tied now.

He raised an eyebrow, but they were now too far apart to speak without shouting. The set moved round, and Carenza danced briefly with the other gentleman in their foursome.

'We could always make small talk,' he said when they were close again.

'If you insist. So, are you enjoying the ball, your highness?' she asked.

'Oh, yes. It has given me plenty of opportunity to get to know the princesses.'

'And how do you find them?'

Folken bit his lip, his garnet eyes twinkling, and mouthed something at her. _Loulo_.

Carenza's eyes widened, then she burst into hysterical giggles, which she hastily masked as a coughing fit. Folken escorted her away from the other dancers, beckoning a servant.

'A glass of water for the lady, quickly!' He leaned closer to Carenza. 'I'm so sorry,' he whispered. 'I did not expect to get quite that reaction.'

She fanned herself frantically, uncomfortably aware of being stared at by half the room. Damn it, I cannot seem to spend more than a few moments in his presence without making a spectacle of myself.

'I think I had better go outside and get some fresh air,' she murmured.

'Wait for me?'

She looked up at him questioningly.

'I can't come outside with you,' he said, 'not with everyone watching. I'll join you in a while, once this has all blown over.'

Carenza nodded. She watched him walk back into the thronging company, where he was just in time to be persuaded to take the floor with Marlene once more.

She waited on the terrace for three dances, gazing out across the city to the distant moon-kissed sea. Several times she roused at a scrape of booted foot on paving, but each time it was only a grown-up couple at their own tryst. Of course he wouldn't come; the princesses held him captive in there. Assuming that he hadn't been teasing her...No, he had not seemed the cruel type. She swallowed hard past the lump in her throat.

'Carenza?'

She whirled, trembling. Folken stood there, his hair silver in the moonlight.

'Are you all right? You look very pale.'

Me, pale? she thought. You must be confusing me with your golden-haired princesses.

'I'm just a bit cold, that's all,' she said aloud.

'Here.' He began unbuttoning the formal military-style jacket. 'I'm rather hot after all that dancing.' 

He removed the jacket and draped it around her shoulders. The high collar was rough against her cheeks, and smelled of him. He slipped an arm tentatively about her waist, and she leant against his shoulder. For a long time neither of them said anything. What was there to say? He was a prince, destined to marry a princess; she was a merchant's daughter, destined to marry for her father's profit.

'You will write to me?' he said at last.

'Would it be proper? If you are promised to someone else?'

'I'm not promised to anyone yet.'

Her heart skipped a beat.

'You're not?'

'Not officially, at any rate. Apparently Princess Marlene is already spoken for, and King Aston thinks Princess Eries is a little too young for a formal engagement. He wants to wait a year or two.'

'But that means you will be, eventually...'

'Eventually, yes. But eventually I'll be king too, and a king needs his sources of intelligence. Who better than the clever daughter of one of the cleverest men in Asturia?'

She turned to look up at him, and he bent his head to kiss her gently on the lips. After a long moment she drew away.

'This is all just hopeless, isn't it?' she whispered.

'No, it's never hopeless. Remember that.'

He kissed her again, wrapping his arms tightly around her waist. The jacket slipped from her shoulders, but lost in his kiss she didn't even notice the evening chill.

'I really ought to be going...' she said at last.

'I thought that was my line,' he replied, smiling. 

'I'm sorry. It's just that it's getting late, and Dryden really ought to be in bed-'

He released her gently.

'Little brothers, eh? Nothing but trouble.'

She grinned and stretched up to kiss him on the cheek.

'Goodnight, my prince.'

'Goodnight, sweet Carenza.'

Reluctantly she turned away and headed back to the ballroom. Some of the courtiers stared as she wandered past, her head in the clouds, but she didn't care any more. He kissed me...

* * * * * * * * * * *

Author's Note: Yes, this chapter is a shameless pastiche on any number of ballroom scenes from Jane Austen. But I don't think there's an anime/Austen crossover section on FanFiction.net :)


	4. And I Thought of You

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Disclaimer: The Vision of Escaflowne is owned by Sunrise and Bandai Entertainment. No copyright infringement is intended by this not-for-profit story, although the author would like to point out that this doesn't mean that others can freely copy this text and claim it as their own!

* * * * * * * * * * *

Blue, 22nd Moon

My dearest Carenza

You have probably heard by now that my father is dead. I know I should be sad, but all I can think of is that he died before signing a betrothal agreement with King Aston, which makes me so happy. Does that make me a bad person? I hope not. I did love him really.

I'm not King of Fanelia yet, at least not properly. According to the customs of my country, I cannot be crowned until I have passed the Rite of Dragonslaying, which won't be at least until my fifteenth birthday. My mother is Regent for now, and she says I should wait until I am king before I choose a bride. So perhaps it will work out for us after all.

Your humble servant

Folken Lacour de Fanel

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Grey, 12th Moon

Dearest Folken

That is the best news I have heard in ages! Not about your father I mean. He seemed very nice, though I didn't really get to know him. Van must be very upset - it can't be easy to explain to him that his Daddy isn't ever coming back.

Anyway, it makes it much easier to say no to my father when he talks about finding a husband for me. I just hope I can hold out for another year and a half. He was talking about marrying me to a business associate of his, but luckily the fat old man died of a heart attack last week. Perhaps I should take up poisoning and get rid of every suitor that comes my way! Except you, of course, my handsome prince!

Love,

Carenza

xxxxxxxx

* * * * * * * * * * *

Green, 28th Moon

My dear Carenza

I'm sorry I haven't written in a while, but between my sword practice with Balgus and all the things I have to learn about being a king, I don't get much time to myself any more. What little I do get is mostly spent with Van. He's big enough to run around with now, and Balgus even has him riding and learning to use a sword - a wooden one of course!

Thank you for the book on engineering you sent me. I know everyone thinks Fanelia is stuck in the dark ages just because we honour the old ways, but I am determined to bring the best of the new technology to my kingdom. We have swift mountain rivers that could be harnessed for milling, and the pumps for draining mines could make all the difference to our economy. I already have some ideas on how the water mills could be adapted to drive a pumping process further upstream. Much more efficient than smelly coal furnaces.

Oh dear, I seem to be rambling on about machines again. It's just that I have so many plans for my new kingdom, and I want to be able to share them with you. Perhaps you could turn your knowledge of poisons towards a study of chemistry, and then who knows - we could take on the Zaibach Empire itself! Only kidding - with you by my side, this little valley will be empire enough for me.

Yours as always

Folken

* * * * * * * * * * *

Yellow, 10th Moon

Dearest Folken

Don't worry, I'm not at all bored by your talk of machines - it all sounds very exciting. I suppose as a merchant's daughter I've been brought up to take the production of goods for granted. Actually making things sounds much more worthwhile than just passing them along and making a profit on the transaction.

Not much to report here, except that Marlene's engagement to Duke Freid has been formalised. The king held a huge ball to celebrate, but it was very dull without you there. I think the king wanted to invite you, but my father persuaded him not to. Someone must have told him about us; at any rate I've had to spend most of my allowance bribing a servant to include this letter amongst some trade documents being sent to Fanelia. I do hope you get it, so that I can tell you how very much I miss you and long to see you again.

All my love

Carenza

xxxxxx

* * * * * * * * * * *

Purple, 2nd Moon

My beloved Carenza

I hope you get this letter in time. My fifteenth birthday is now only days away, and I must soon face the Rite of Dragonslaying. Please come to Fanelia - I have to see you before I leave, in case I would really like you to be here when I return, to be at my coronation.

I cannot write more or I will miss the caravan to Palas.

Yours ever

F

* * * * * * * * * * *

Author's Note: this chapter's title is brought to you courtesy of the Royal Mail (in the UK), who use the advertising slogan "I saw this...and I thought of you". Cheesy, ne?


	5. The Heart of Fanel

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Disclaimer: The Vision of Escaflowne is owned by Sunrise and Bandai Entertainment. No copyright infringement is intended by this not-for-profit story, although the author would like to point out that this doesn't mean that others can freely copy this text and claim it as their own!

* * * * * * * * * * *

By the time the airship touched down in the tiny valley of Fanelia, Carenza was almost sick with anticipation. The sun was rising above the mountains, waking the city to a new day. The seventeenth moon of Purple, Crystal North-east; Folken's fifteenth birthday. Was she too late to see him off for this Rite of Dragonslaying he spoke of? He wanted her to be there, but why the urgency? If it was anything like Asturian coming-of-age ceremonies it would be long, dull and probably in a dead language - unless it was one of those silly rites of manhood perpetuated by barbarians...Carenza was shocked at that thought. That was her father talking. The Fanelians weren't barbarians, just...old-fashioned. Besides, Folken was planning to lead his kingdom into the modern world.

By the looks of the city, it needed a little modernisation. The houses, though charming with their carved eaves and bamboo shutters, surely had only the most basic of amenities and were doubtless cold and draughty in the winter. And the streets - little more than dusty tracks between the houses. As they drove across a tiny square, still deep in shadow at this early hour, an old man with a face like a pickled walnut shuffled to the well and began to lower the bucket.

The palace, although much larger than the city houses, was of the same style. Wood and plaster walls rose above thick stone foundations, and even the gatehouse was mostly wooden. The carriage drew up at the gates, and a pair of armoured guards snapped to attention, their long-bladed polearms at the ready. Carenza threw a handful of coins to the driver of the carriage and approached them.

'My name is Carenza Fassa. I am here to see His Royal Highness Prince Folken Lacour de Fanel.'

After a long wait whilst the guard ambled back to the palace proper to check her credentials, Carenza was escorted to a garden behind one of the many buildings in the palace complex. Like the other Fanelian buildings it looked more like a summerhouse than a permanent dwelling; it even had a verandah of dark-stained wood around all four sides. The rising sun winked on dew-gemmed grass. In the bare branches of a willow, a pair of sparrows were quarrelling noisily, spiralling around one another in mock combat.

They were not the only ones so engaged. Folken was pacing the lawn, executing a series of stylised combat moves, like and yet unlike the fighting style of the knights in Asturia. His long, subtly-curved blade traced a pattern of graceful arcs, seemingly unhindered by the bulky upper-body armour he wore. Carenza and her escort watched for a moment until the prince stopped, sheathed his sword and bowed to his imaginary opponent.

'Folken-sama? Your visitor is here.' The servant bowed and left.

'Carenza! I thought you weren't coming!' He hugged her clumsily, crushing her face against the oversized shoulder-pad of his armour.

'You look like you really are off to slay a dragon,' she smiled.

'Of course.' He patted the scabbard on his hip.

'You're not serious? I thought it was some kind of symbolic thing, like the dragon-boat races in Jeture Harbour.'

She pulled away to get a better look at him. There was nothing of pageantry about his apparel. Those were real metal plates, and the leather padding was cracked along the creases. It all looked well-used and very...practical.

'Oh dear god.' The garden receded dizzyingly and then snapped back into focus, and she began to shake.

'I thought you knew,' said Folken, pushing a lock of damp silvery hair out of his eyes. 'I mean, everyone knows we have real dragons roaming wild in Fanelia. That's why I wanted to see you again before I left. In case-'

'No!'

Carenza turned blindly away, and her legs began to fold under her. She staggered towards the verandah and collapsed onto the steps. There was a jingling of buckles and a soft thud, then a decidely less armoured Folken sat down beside her and pulled her close. She resisted for a moment, then sank into his embrace, trembling.

'I'm sorry, beloved, I really thought you knew. It'll be all right, I promise.' He kissed her hair. 'Balgus is one of the three best swordsmen in all Gaea, and he's taught me everything I know.'

She tried to reply, but the lump in her throat blocked all sound. For a long time she just held him, breathing in the leather-and-oil scent left on his shirt by the armour. Gradually the shaking subsided, and the lump in her throat shrank a little.

Folken disengaged himself from her arms.

'I'm going to have to go soon,' he said. 'But there's something I want you to look after for me.'

He slipped a heavy gold ring off his right hand and held it up to the light. It was set with a large pinkish cabochon-cut gem, somewhat assymetrical in shape like a cowrie shell.

'The stone in this ring is called The Heart of Fanel. It is said to be a fragment of the original drag-energist used to power Escaflowne, the ancient guymelef belonging to my family. I don't know if that's true, but the stone is...attuned somehow to the royal bloodline of Fanelia. When a king of Fanelia dies, the stone darkens for a day and a night, until it attunes itself to his successor.'

Carenza just stared at him. This was just some crazed nightmare, from which she would soon wake. Wouldn't she?

'I know that part of the story is true,' Folken went on, 'because I saw it happen when my father died. I want you to keep it until I return. As long as the gem is bright and clear you will know that I still live, no matter what your heart fears.'

He pressed the ring into her palm, and her fingers closed around it of their own will.

'I'm never going to see you again,' she whispered.

'Yes you are. I promise, and a king never breaks his promises.'

'I should give something to you,' she cried. 'In Asturia it is traditional for a knight to wear his lady's favour when he rides into the lists.'

She rummaged in her bag and pulled out a velvet jewellery roll. Yes, how very appropriate.

'A heart for a heart,' she said, holding up a ruby earring. It was cut into a heart-shape, hanging from another smaller ruby that concealed the wire loop.

'I lost the other one of the pair,' she explained, 'but I liked it so much I kept it anyway. I know your ears aren't pierced, but you could hook the wire into your shirt or something...'

'I will wear it next to my own heart, for luck,' he said.

He stood to leave, then pulled her close to kiss her one last time. His lips pressed fiercely against hers, and his tongue quested between them to trace the sharp line of her teeth. Carenza felt a warmth sweep through her veins, a dizzying heat that pulled her until she seemed to be melting into him...Something hard pressed against her stomach. For a moment she thought it was just the sword hilt, but then Folken drew away, blushing.

'I-I'm sorry, it must just be battle nerves...I meant no disrespect-'

'It's all right,' she reassured him, and looked up shyly. 'Just save it for when you get back.'

He swallowed visibly.

'I hope queens-to-be keep their promises, too,' he murmured.

A queen. She hadn't really thought about it until this moment, but that was what marrying Folken meant. She suppressed a wild laugh. Marlene would be _so_ jealous.

* * * * * * * * * * *

Author's Note: I created the Heart of Fanel after deciding that I needed some tangible, albeit ambiguous, evidence of Folken's fate. It was only later that I re-watched the episode in which Hitomi compares her pendant to Escaflowne's energist, so maybe the idea was lurking in my subconscious all that time.

The name comes from a suggestion I came across that Folken's middle name is a mis-spelling of Lacoeur, i.e. French _coeur_ 'heart', hence the brooch on his cloak. I like weaving patterns of images into my stories, so a heart it became. After that, the origin of his cloak-pin was obvious...


	6. Omens

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Disclaimer: The Vision of Escaflowne is owned by Sunrise and Bandai Entertainment. No copyright infringement is intended by this not-for-profit story, although the author would like to point out that this doesn't mean that others can freely copy this text and claim it as their own!

* * * * * * * * * * *

Folken was gone all day. When evening fell and he still had not returned, Carenza began to feel scared, but the Heart of Fanel was still clear and bright, catching the firelight like a flame upon her hand.

'He'll be all right, my dear,' Folken's mother assured her. 'It's a long way to the part of the forest where the dragons live. He probably hasn't even found one yet.'

Carenza nodded. Queen Varie was a lot like her elder son, tall and graceful, but with long dark hair instead of silver, and sad violet eyes. Carenza wanted very much to get to know her better, so that she could find out more about Folken from the woman who surely knew him best, but although Varie was kind and unfailingly polite, her grief at her husband's death was like a wall between her and the rest of the world.

After a while the queen rose from her seat by the fire.

'We should go to bed. If Folken comes home in the night, Balgus will see that we are woken. Good night, my dear.'

All next day Carenza waited, but still there was no sign of Folken. She passed the time by helping Van in his lessons. He was just learning to read and write, and she kept him amused by folding paper into animal shapes and writing their names on them. His cat-friend Merle watched them for a while and then ran off with the paper mouse, growling at Carenza when she tried to retrieve it.

'Do a dragon next,' Van demanded.

'I'm not sure I have a big enough piece of paper,' she said. Dragons were not exactly her favourite creatures at the moment. 'How about a sea-serpent, like the ones we have in Asturia?'

'Oh, all right,' he said, sticking out his bottom lip to make it clear that this had better be nearly as good or else.

Carenza took out a sheet of greenish paper and began to fold it lengthways. She glanced down at the ring for the hundredth time that day, and her heart skipped a beat. The pinkish gem was cloudy, like a piece of glass that has been ground smooth by the tide. For a long moment she stared at it, hardly remembering to breathe.

'What is it, Carenza-san?'

'Nothing, Van. Please, excuse me.'

She ran off in search of Queen Varie. Perhaps she would be able to say if the change in the stone was the kind that Folken had described, or something else. She ran along the covered verandah and rounded the corner without looking - straight into Balgus. The swordmaster squinted down at her with his one good eye.

'What's the hurry, little lady?'

'I need to show the queen- have you seen her?'

'She's praying at the family shrine up on the hill,' he said.

'Oh no!' This was a bad omen, she knew it.

Without pausing even to thank Balgus, she ran off up the path towards the royal tombs. When she got there, Queen Varie was kneeling before a massive monument of dark grey marble; the grave of King Goau.

'Queen Varie! Your Majesty!'

The queen looked up.

'Good heavens! What is it, dear? Is Folken back already?'

Carenza held out her hand.

'Look at this.'

'It's the Heart of Fanel. What about it?'

Carenza looked down. The stone was as clear as ever.

'But...it went all dull...I saw it, I know I did.'

The queen smiled gently.

'I'm sure you did. But Folken is...not quite like other kings of Fanelia. The power is especially strong in him. It is possible that, were he hurt or simply in danger, the stone might respond.'

'It might?' 

'Yes. I cannot be sure, of course - he has only been attuned to it for two years, and he has never been seriously injured in that time. But if the stone is clear again now, I think we can be sure that he is out of danger.'

'Oh.' She didn't feel very convinced, but this mystic bond between the kings of Fanelia and their guymelef was beyond her experience.

The Heart of Fanel remained clear for the rest of the day, and the day after that, and yet still Folken did not return. The queen was withdrawing further into herself, unwilling to admit that she might have been wrong, and Carenza was left to look after little Van.

'My brother's coming home, isn't he?' he asked for the hundredth time, gazing up at her with those red-brown eyes that reminded her so much of Folken.

'Yes, of course he is.' She wished she sounded more convincing.

'But he's been gone for _ages_!'

'I know it seems like a very long time, but it's a long way to the forest and dragons are not so common as they used to be.'

'My brother is a great warrior.' Van cocked his head on one side. 'Perhaps he is so fierce, the dragons just runned away from him,' he said cheerfully.

'Perhaps,' she smiled, and ruffled his dark hair.

She tucked him into bed, and Merle curled up by his feet. 

'Will you read me a story?' Van asked sleepily.

'All right. Which one would you like?'

She picked up the book, and a lump came to her throat. This was the very book she had recommended to Folken, that first day that had met.

'Read the one about the magic wishing bird.'

'That's a silly story,' put in Merle. 'Birds don't talk, they squawk!' She giggled, and pretended to attack Van's feet through the bedclothes.

'Well, I've seen birdmen in Palas, and they can talk,' said Carenza.

Merle looked up, her eyes wide, then she harumphed and curled up with her back to them. Van looked about to say something, but Carenza raised a finger to her lips, opened the book and began to read.

'Once upon a time, in a land far away, there lived a little prince...'

On her way back downstairs, she heard raised voices. It sounded like Balgus and Queen Varie. She didn't know whether to walk straight in and pretend she hadn't heard anything, or go up to her own room and leave them to it.

'Your majesty, you have to give the prince time to complete his Rite of Dragonslaying-'

'It's been three days, Balgus. What if my son is lying injured in the forest somewhere? '

'We have no reason to suspect-'

'Prince Folken left the Heart of Fanel with his sweetheart, and she saw it change.'

'Why didn't someone tell me?'

'It only lasted a few minutes, it seems. I thought...a passing danger, or an injury...it might react more strongly to Draconian blood than to that of humans...'

Draconian blood? thought Carenza. Is that a fancy name for dragon's blood? She inched closer.

Balgus growled something.

'What was that about my husband?' the queen asked.

'Nothing, your majesty.'

'I know my husband's decision to marry me was not popular with any of his advisors,' Varie murmured. Carenza strained to catch her words. 'But it was prophesied. We were fated to be together...if only for a short time.'

Footsteps approached the door. Carenza slipped along the side corridor and let herself out into the garden. She had heard too much to be able to sleep for a while. So Varie was not Fanelian. Well, there was nothing very unusual in that. Most royal families were obliged to marry outside their own kingdom, generally in support of political alliances. Cynics might even accuse Folken of wanting to marry Carenza for her father's money; Fanelia was not exactly a wealthy country. But during her time at court, Carenza had sat in on most of Marlene and Eries' lessons, which included learning the royal families of all the surrounding countries, and she didn't remember seeing Varie's name on any of the pedigrees. Perhaps it had been a love-match, then. Varie had the grace of a noblewoman born and bred, but there were hundreds of noble families in Gaea and no-one could be expected to know them all.

She wandered around the garden for a while, stooping to brush her hand along the step where she and Folken had sat - was it really only three days ago? She shivered. It was getting cold, and the Mystic Moon was high above the western mountains. Time to go to bed. 

When she got to her room she found a note on her pillow.

'My dear Carenza,' she read. Scanning down to the bottom of the page, she spotted Queen Varie's signature. What was this all about? She hastily read on.

My dear Carenza

I am going to look for my son. I cannot wait for Balgus' consent any longer, but I do not have the courage to defy him to his face. Please give me time to reach the forest, or he will try to stop me.

Look after Van for me. I hope to be back soon, with my our beloved Folken by my side.

Yours

Varie de Fanel

Carenza followed the queen's instructions, and did not alert Balgus. Next morning the servants reported that the queen was missing. Fortunately for Carenza, Balgus easily guessed where Varie had gone, so she was spared having to show him the note. Not that she dared to. The scarred swordsmaster was in a foul temper, though more, she thought, with himself for not anticipating Varie's actions than with her for concealing them. Instead she took Van for a walk in the garden whilst Balgus assembled the Fanelian knights and organised search parties.

They returned around sunset without either Folken or the queen. Carenza had left Van with a maidservant for a couple of hours, afraid that her growing anxiety would upset the little prince. She lay in her bed, staring at the ceiling and trying to breathe slowly and calmly, though every nerve in her body was stretched to breaking point.

There was a knock at the door. She started, then sat up and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. 

'Come in.'

Balgus took a step into the room and just stood there, arms folded.

'I think you should leave.' he said at last.

She stared at him.

'But what about Van? I can't just leave him, with no family-'

'I can look after the prince. He needs a man to look up to, not women tying him to their apron sleeves.'

'But-'

'There's a merchant caravan leaving in the morning. They're heading across the border into Asturia; I dare say you can find someone there who will take you on to the capital.'

She didn't know what to say. She just couldn't go, not with Folken missing, and yet she could hardly stay in this foreign land when she had been openly told to leave. It was hopeless.

_It's never hopeless_, came the reply from her memory.

'I won't give up,' she whispered.

'What did you say?' asked Balgus.

'Nothing. It doesn't matter.'

She looked down at the ring, deceptively bright on her hand.

'You should have this back,' she said, holding out the Heart of Fanel. 'It belongs to Van now.'

The swordmaster grimaced, twisting his scarred face into a terrifying mask.

'Keep the accursed thing. It has already brought death to this family - I will not see the prince mislead by false omens.'

With a certain amount of relief she slipped it back on her finger. It was all she had left of Folken. That, and a bundle of letters in her desk back home in Palas. 

Home. 

She didn't feel like anywhere was home any more.

END OF PART ONE

* * * * * * * * * * *

Part Two of this story coming very soon!


	7. Blue-Eyed Boy

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Disclaimer: The Vision of Escaflowne is owned by Sunrise and Bandai Entertainment. No copyright infringement is intended by this not-for-profit story, although the author would like to point out that this doesn't mean that others can freely copy this text and claim it as their own!

* * * * * * * * * * *

PART TWO: BODIES

> 'To'our bodies turn we then, that so  
Weak men on love reveal'd may look;  
Love's mysteries in souls do grow,  
But yet the body is his book.'
> 
> John Donne, _The Ecstasy_

'I don't know why I agreed to come to this tournament,' sighed Marlene. 'Really, there's nothing more dull than watching a bunch of grown men hitting one another with swords.'

'Ssh, your Uncle Nueva will hear you,' Carenza hissed. 'I think it was very kind of him to invite us. Besides, he's probably worried about you, moping about in your room all day.'

Marlene picked at a bunch of grapes on the refreshment table laid out in the royal box.

'What else is there to do?' she asked.

'Your sister seems to keep herself busy.'

'Oh, yes, Miss Bossyboots Eries, sitting in on Father's meetings with his advisers, and poking her nose into everyone else's business.'

Carenza shrugged.

'Well, she is likely to be queen one day.'

There was a frosty silence. Marlene did not like to be reminded that her betrothal to Duke Freid had disbarred her from succeeding to the throne of Asturia. Before she could come up with a response, however, Duke Nueva plumped himself down next to them. He seemed oblivious to the awkward atmosphere between his favourite niece and her companion. 

'I was just talking to the Master of Ceremonies,' he said, beaming. 'Apparently Balgus has brought back a young prodigy from the eastern swamps, and today is his first public tournament.' 

At that moment the trumpets rang out, and a dozen young men dressed in elaborate tourney armour and blue cloaks, with their helmets tucked under their left arms, marched out into the arena. They stopped below the royal box and bowed.

'Ah, there he is!' the duke cried. 'The lad on the end with the yellow hair.'

The young knight, who was surely no more than fifteen, gazed up at the royal box with an expression of awed anticipation. Marlene gasped. 

'I know him, I'm sure of it. Do you know his name, uncle?'

'Hmm, what was it? Oh yes - Allen Schezar.'

Marlene smiled in triumph.

'I _knew_ I knew him from somewhere! He was at that ball, when was it ?...must have been five or six years ago. You remember him, don't you, Carenza? It was the ball Father gave in honour of the Prince of Fanelia.'

'Oh, yes,' said her uncle. 'I remember the prince. Sad business, very sad. Had a name like a bird of prey or something.'

'Folken,' Carenza murmured. 'His name was Folken Lacour de Fanel.'

Marlene stood up and pulled the gauzy scarf from her hair.

'What are you doing, my dear?' her uncle asked.

'A knight has to have a lady's favour,' she replied, and crumpling the scarf into a ball she threw it at the startled young man. 

It fluttered down to land at his feet. Allen blushed prettily and stooped to pick the scarf up. He hastily wrapped it about his left arm and bowed to Marlene. Then all the knights bowed again, turned smartly, and filed back to the sidelines to prepare for their bouts. 

'Hmm, well, I think we manage things better in Asturia, eh? Eh? Much better to let the youngsters practice on the field first. All very well to let them onto the battlefield in a guymelef, but fighting man-to-man...'

Neither of the girls was paying him much attention. Marlene was gazing after the retreating Allen, and Carenza was lost in memories of another young man of fifteen, practising his swordplay on a misty morning four years and half a lifetime ago.

Not long afterwards, Allen was dubbed a Knight of Heaven, the highest honour that Asturian chivalry could bestow. Marlene went about in a love-struck daze, and Carenza began to worry that others besides herself would notice.

'Is not the sky the very colour of his eyes?' Marlene sighed, one rainy afternoon. They were sitting at one end of the downstairs parlour, watching the rain cascade from the balcony above and bounce off the broad leaves of a potted camellia on the terrace.

'The sky is grey, like old pewter,' Carenza pointed out.

'It looks blue to me.'

Carenza shook her head in despair.

'You keep forgetting you are betrothed to another.'

Marlene turned to look at her.

'I forget nothing. But how can I be expected to love a man I do not know? And a man nearly twice my age at that.'

'Better that than a boy of fifteen, when you are a young woman of eighteen.'

'You are one to speak of boys of fifteen, Carenza Fassa.'

Carenza swallowed. Marlene was just trying to goad her into an argument. On the other hand, she felt compelled to defend herself.

'I was barely sixteen myself at the time,' she said. 'There was but a year's difference in our ages.'

'One year or three; what does it matter?'

'What matters is that I was not betrothed to anyone else at the time.'

'And I say that I cannot love a man who is not of my choosing. Do not all the romances, all the troubadours' songs say as much? The only true, pure love is one unbounded by marriage vows.' 

She smiled knowingly.

'Marlene - what are you saying?' Carenza whispered. The last thing she wanted was for the princess to shout out a confession of illicit love for half the palace to hear. Fortunately Marlene took her cue from the older girl.

'It is traditional for a knight to love his lady, is it not?' she whispered back.

'Well, yes, but...'

'And do not the oldest songs describe that love in...carnal terms?'

'Yes.' She could not deny it, she who had sung those very songs at one time.

'Then Allen will be my lover. It is fitting and proper, in the most ancient traditions of chivalry.'

'Marlene, you can't...'

The princess rounded on her, her mouth a taut line.

'You cannot tell me what to do. No-one can tell me what to do, I am sick of you all!' She ran from the room, sobbing.

'What's the matter with her?' asked Eries when she came into the parlour a few moments later.

'Oh, you know your sister,' said Carenza, 'Up one moment, down the next.'

'Well, I suppose I would be unhappy if I were betrothed to an old man.'

'The Duke of Freid is hardly an old man. I doubt he is much more than thirty. And you shouldn't gloat. Your father might marry you off to someone far worse.'

Eries smiled smugly.

'I doubt it. Father does exactly what I ask him.' She wandered over to the fireplace and ran a finger along the mantle. 'I shall marry a man of Asturia and rule by his side.'

'Do you have anyone in mind?'

'There are a few...promising candidates, yes.'

Carenza raised an eyebrow. She wasn't aware that Eries knew more than a handful of people outside the palace, and she surely wasn't contemplating marriage to any of the king's advisers, most of whom were even older than Duke Freid. Unless...some of the advisers had sons, after all.

'One of these candidates wouldn't happen to be my little brother, would it?'

'Oh, please!' Eries laughed. 'I've known Dryden since I was a child; and besides, the King of Asturia should be a man of gentle birth. Someone noble, honourable, and chivalrous...'

She paused to examine a display of miniatures that hung on a velvet ribbon next to the fireplace, and lifted up a portrait of her father. It had been painted in his youth, before he became king, and showed him wearing the regalia of a Knight of Heaven.

The identity of Eries' chief "candidate" suddenly dawned on Carenza.

'You don't mean...Allen Schezar?' she asked.

Eries turned to her, smiling.

'Who else? He is the finest knight in the land. His father was, I admit, an eccentric, but his mother came from one of the oldest familes in Asturia. He would make a perfect king.'

Carenza groaned inwardly. Not Eries too? Allen was a handsome lad and popular besides, but it took more than good looks and charm to rule a kingdom. On the other hand, with a formidable young woman like Eries behind the throne, the king need be little more than a figurehead. Poor Allen! Did he even suspect the trouble his heavenly blue eyes were getting him into?


	8. Sparring Partners

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Disclaimer: The Vision of Escaflowne is owned by Sunrise and Bandai Entertainment. No copyright infringement is intended by this not-for-profit story, although the author would like to point out that this doesn't mean that others can freely copy this text and claim it as their own!

* * * * * * * * * * *

The day of Marlene's wedding to Duke Freid drew near, and the eldest princess decided that the sisters should have a trip out to the countryside together, since this was the last time she would see them for many months. King Aston agreed that a picnic was a very suitable entertainment for young people, and suggested that Allen Schezar could be spared from his palace duties to act as their bodyguard. Carenza of course was invited as companion and chaperone to the princesses, and at Meiden Fassa's suggestion his son was added to the guest list 'since the grown-up princesses ought to have a gentleman each to escort them'.

So it was all arranged, and on a bright summer's day the little party set off into the hills above Palas. Marlene, Allen and Carenza rode in the first carriage, and Dryden, Eries and Millerna followed behind. 

'There really is not room for four in a carriage, not in this heat,' explained Marlene. 'And there ought to be a gentleman in each carriage for safety's sake.'

Eries' expression suggested that she did not feel Dryden's presence would add to her safety. Carenza shot her brother a warning glance, but he was wearing the glasses he had designed for summer reading and his expression was unreadable behind the tinted lenses. She noticed that he was carrying a book with his finger tucked inside to mark the place, and doubted that either princess would get much conversation out of him on the journey.

They reached the chosen picnic site, a hill with fine views of the surrounding country, a little while before noon. Whilst the princesses strolled about debating the best spot for a picnic, the footmen began unloading the hampers, folding chairs and tables and all the other impedimentia needed by elegant young ladies eating out of doors. A position was eventually settled upon, about halfway up the hill, where a lone chestnut gave some shade. Chairs and parasols were set up, and the footmen began preparing luncheon.

Within minutes the folding table was laid with dazzling white linen and silver cutlery. Bowls of nectarines and cherries, rounds of cheese and endless jars of sauces and pickles emerged from the seemingly bottomless hampers. Two servants unpacked loaves of bread, butter and cold meats and assembled plates of sandwiches on a side table. The head footman produced a bottle of white wine from a terracotta cooler and began pouring it into glasses of fine Asturian crystal.

'Wine, sir?'

'No, thank you,' said Allen. 'I believe it would be best if I kept my wits about me. I wouldn't wish to alarm the ladies,' he added in an undertone, 'but one can never be totally sure that a place like this is free of bandits.'

'We have some lemonade that was provided for Princess Millerna,' the servant suggested.

Allen nodded.

'That would be perfect.'

The footman poured Allen a glass of lemonade then, with a nod to Carenza, motioned for the servants to retreat to a discreet distance.

'Allen, do come over here,' called Eries. 'Marlene and I cannot agree on how far we have come from Palas. I say it is not above five mile, but Marlene insists it is nearer ten.'

'I'm afraid your sister is right, your highness,' Allen said, bowing deeply to Marlene. 'We are about a mile from the village of Estemirada, which I know to be precisely four miles outside Palas.'

Marlene pouted. 'Well it certainly felt like ten miles in that horrible carriage.'

Dryden looked up from his book.

'Maybe your sister's just been looking at the maps in the council chambers,' he said. 'Hey, Eries, did ya know that 'Estemirada' means 'East View' in Old Asturian?'

'Yes, Dryden. You're not the only person who knows a couple of languages, you know.'

'Hmm, I'd say more than a couple-'

Millerna gulped down the last of her lemonade and jumped to her feet.

'That's enough picnic,' she announced. 'Allen, will you show me your sword?'

'I really shouldn't - it's very sharp.'

She came round the back of his chair and leant over to rest her chin on his shoulder.

'Oh, please?'

'All right,' he said, putting down his plate. 'But you'll have to promise me you won't try and touch it.'

'I promise.'

He got up and walked a few yards away from the picnickers, drew his blade and held it up for Millerna to see.

'Ooh, it's all shimmery-wavy along one edge!'

'That's the way the metal's worked. It's been folded over and over to make it light but strong.'

Millerna dashed away and picked up a long stick from beneath the chestnut tree.

'En garde!' she cried, and held it up like a sword. 'I am Black Millerna, Scourge of the Asturian Main!'

Allen grinned, sheathed his blade and found himself a similarly harmless weapon.

'Avaunt thee, blaggard!'

They paced back and forth, fencing with their sticks. After a flurry of blows that showered the protesting picnickers with fragments of bark, they moved a little further up the hill. The Knight of Heaven paused in his defence to strike a heroic pose, and Millerna duly ran him through, snapping the point of her 'rapier' on his serge uniform. Allen clutched a gloved hand to his ribs and collapsed melodramatically to the ground.

'He's very good with Millerna, isn't he?' Carenza remarked quietly to Marlene.

'He's a sweet boy,' the princess sighed. 'And of course he did have a little sister of his own once.'

'Really? What happened?'

'The poor thing just disappeared one day. I think it was the same year that you lost your prince.'

The casual reference caught Carenza off-guard. She had not thought of Folken since the afternoon Marlene had told her of her intentions toward Allen. She suddenly felt unable to sit still any longer. Excusing herself, she rose and went to the table to choose some fruit.

Allen, having recovered from the death-blow, had retrieved his plate and was cutting a slice from a fruit cake studded with almonds. Carenza was surprised to see that he still wore his white uniform gloves, even to eat a picnic.

'Aren't you hot in that uniform?' she asked.

'I have been trained not to notice it,' he said. 'And I felt that it was important for the princesses to be seen to be guarded by an elite knight, not just by servants. The uniform of the Knights of Heaven is known throughout Asturia.'

They stood for a while, gazing across the valley towards Palas and discussing the history of the city, until Carenza had to concede that it really was too hot in the sun. Allen apologised for his thoughtlessness and escorted her back to her seat.

'Have either of you seen Marlene?' Eries asked.

Millerna flung herself down on the grass at her sister's feet, panting like a dog. Her blonde curls were dark with sweat and plastered to her temples.

'I think she went into the bushes over there,' she said, pointing downhill with her stick. 'She looked like she needed to, um, go.'

'She shouldn't just wander off on her own like that,' Allen muttered. 'One never knows what kind of ruffian might be lurking around those woods.'

He drew his sword and stalked off towards the copse.

'If her highness is engaged on business of a, er...delicate nature, perhaps I should be the one looking for her,' said Carenza, running after him.

'Very well. You go ahead, and I will follow in case of peril.'

Carenza set off towards the trees, with Allen following a few yards behind.

'Marlene! Mar-lene!'

There was no sign of the princess anywhere. They moved cautiously through the copse, expecting to find some scene of horror at any moment. 

'Marlene? Where are you?' Allen shouted, a note of fear in his voice.

Suddenly there was a rustle from behind them, and Carenza turned in time to see Allen being dragged into some bushes. She was about to shout an alarm, but something she had seen made her pause. After all, it seemed rather unlikely that bandits tied their sleeves with pink ribbons. Now, however, she was in a quandary. She felt stupid standing around in the copse whilst Allen and Marlene canoodled in the bushes - the others would be worried if there was no news soon - but nor could she go back, leaving the lovers alone together, for fear of encouraging gossip. After a few moments' indecision she decided to count to twenty and then interrupt them, whether they were done or not.

One, two, three...

Really this was very inconsiderate of them. It put Carenza in a very awkward position.

...Seven, eight, nine...

She did feel sorry for Marlene, though. And Allen didn't seem to be doing much to discourage her attentions, either.

...Fifteen, sixteen, seventeen...

There was a shriek from uphill, back towards the picnickers. She set off at a run. A bramble snagged her skirt but she ripped it free and ran on. Emerging from the copse, she saw, not the expected scene of carnage, but Dryden lying in the remains of a collapsed deckchair with Millerna sitting astride his chest. The little princess was raining blows on Dryden's upraised arms, until he managed to catch her wrists and restrain her.

'You take back what you said about my sister!' Millerna shouted in his face.

'Eries, help me!' Dryden pleaded.

'I don't see why I should.' Eries was staring tight-lipped into the distance.

'What in heaven is going on?' Carenza demanded. 'Ah, ah, one at a time!' she amended, as both combatants tried to give their accounts at once. 'Millerna?'

Millerna glanced at her sister.

'This _creep_ said that if Marlene was going to sneak off to kiss Allen then he wanted a kiss from Eries.'

Carenza raised an eyebrow.

'Well, little brother?'

Dryden shrugged sheepishly.

'I guess I...well, I thought a certain person had fallen asleep, so-'

'Really, Dryden, I don't know which is worse - propositioning Eries or slandering Marlene. Have you learnt no manners from those expensive tutors Father hired for you?'

'I'm sorry, all right?' he grumbled. 'Now will you get off me, please, princess?'

'Not until you've apologised to both my sisters,' Millerna said.

'Well he can hardly apologise properly with you sitting on him, can he, dear?' Carenza pointed out.

The young princess reluctantly let Dryden up. He picked up his glasses, which had been knocked off in the struggle, bent the wire frames back into shape and put them on. They sat on his nose somewhat lopsidedly, which did not help his dignity. He bowed deeply to Eries and murmured something, to which she nodded curtly. When Marlene and Allen reached the picnic spot, Dryden made a stammering apology to them both. Marlene tried not to giggle, but Allen flushed scarlet and his hand crept towards his sword hilt.

The servants, too, had come running when they heard Millerna's screams. One or two still had a beer bottle or clay pipe in hand, but the head footman was carrying a loaded crossbow. Carenza explained that it was all a false alarm, and suggested that, since the afternoon was wearing on, it might be a good time to think about going home to Palas. Everyone except Millerna hastily agreed, and the servants began packing away the remains of the picnic.

On the way back down the hill, Carenza suggested to Allen that perhaps he should take the coach with Eries and Millerna on the return journey.

'I think it would be politic to keep Dryden and Eries apart for a while,' she said. 'And it would look better for you, too, if you did not appear to have spent too much of the day with Princess Marlene. People will start to gossip.'

'I just hope that brother of yours can hold his tongue,' Allen muttered.

'I will speak to him,' she promised. 'And perhaps you could speak to Millerna. She seems to look up to you.'

'I'll do that. Thank you, Carenza, you are a true friend. I know Marlene and I can rely on you.'

Oh yes, she thought. Good old dependable Carenza. Everyone knows she has nothing better to do than look after princesses and their tangled love lives, for she has none of her own.

* * * * * * * * * * *

Author's Note: Another shameless piece of Austen pastiche - mea culpa! (Admittedly it is rather more boisterous than Ms Austen's works.) In fact there are so many similarities between the Asturian section of 'Escaflowne' and the plot of 'Sense and Sensibility' that Sarah-neko and I suspect the series' writers of some serious plagiarism...


	9. Dirty Little Secrets

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Disclaimer: The Vision of Escaflowne is owned by Sunrise and Bandai Entertainment. No copyright infringement is intended by this not-for-profit story, although the author would like to point out that this doesn't mean that others can freely copy this text and claim it as their own!

* * * * * * * * * * *

'Have you heard the news?' Millerna cried, bursting into the drawing room. 'Marlene has had her baby!'

Carenza looked up from her sewing.

'How wonderful!' she said. 'Oh, but I will have to finish this bonnet right away. Is it a boy or a girl?'

'A boy. Blond and bonny like his mother, so the messenger said.'

Carenza picked a length of blue ribbon out of the sewing basket and began to thread it through a series of neatly-edged holes in the fabric.

'Of course she was pretty lucky,' Millerna added.

'Why so?' Eries asked, putting aside her book.

'Well, I worked it out and it's exactly thirty-nine weeks and four days since they were married.'

The two older girls looked blankly at her.

'A normal pregnancy is about forty weeks,' Millerna explained. 'But the baby was fully grown, which means that Marlene fell pregnant right away.' Once her elder sister's pregnancy had become known, Millerna had become fascinated by medicine and midwifery.

'I still do not understand why that makes her lucky,' said Eries.

Millerna rolled her eyes.

'Because,' she sighed, 'first pregnancies are often overlong, as the womb hasn't had any practice at labour. And that can be dangerous for the mother and the baby. Marlene was lucky that she gave birth right on schedule.'

Carenza kept her expression carefully neutral. As Marlene's friend, she knew for a fact that on the day before the wedding the princess had been anxious about her imminent period. She said she was afraid that it might start during the ceremony and at the very least be a distraction, if not the cause of an embarrassing accident. At the same time she was hoping it would begin soon so that consummation of the marriage might be postponed, at least for a few days. Either the baby was premature after all - or it had been conceived before Marlene ever left Asturia.

'If you will excuse me,' she said to both princesses, 'I think I shall write to Marlene right away, to congratulate her.' Anything to get out of here before the discussion led where it would benefit no-one.

'Yes, of course, that's a lovely idea,' said Eries. 'Millerna, why don't you get some paper and we can write too.'

With the princesses thus occupied, Carenza left for her own apartments.

Back in her modest suite of rooms she took out pen and paper, but could not bring herself to write. She paced around the sitting room for a while, put the books that the maid had tidied away back into alphabetical order (Dora was a sweet girl but could barely write her own name), rearranged the cushions on the chaise, and paced some more.

There was a knock at the door. Carenza started, and had barely stammered out a 'Come in!' before the door opened and Dryden walked in, his normally genial face set in an expression of controlled fury.

'I cannot believe it,' said, throwing himself down on the chaise. 'I know I never respected him as much as I ought, but I never believed him capable of such...such infamy.'

Carenza stared at him. She knew Dryden had suspected Allen and Marlene of being in love - it was almost impossible not to, after the picnic - but surely she was the only one who knew the whole truth?

'You cannot blame Allen entirely-' she began.

'Allen?' It was Dryden's turn to stare. 'Who said anything about Allen?'

'I, um, well...who _were_ you talking about, then?'

'Our father, of course.'

Carenza almost laughed with relief.

'What has he done now?'

'This is serious, sis. I was just with the accountant, discussing my increase in allowance now I'm sixteen, and I happened to see a bill of lading amongst the papers on his desk.'

'So?'

'So - the cargo in question was a consignment of one hundred beastfolk, for delivery to a manufactory in Zaibach.'

'Slaves?' Carenza whispered.

'No, of course not,' Dryden replied sarcastically. 'That would be illegal. Of course I went straight to Father and he kindly explained it all to me.'

'So what did he say?'

'Apparently, nowadays it's called "procurement" and is perfectly respectable. He told me that the people being transported were indentured labourers, debtors whose debts had been paid by our father in return for their signing a work contract. They are taken to Zaibach, where Father receives a "transfer fee" for the labourer and his contract. In theory the labourer can work off his debt and return home, but I suspect that the contracts are carefully constructed to make this almost impossible, and most of the labourers are illiterate anyway.'

'Slavery by the back door...'

'Yep, and our beloved father is in it up to his scrawny neck.' He leant back on the cushions and took off his glasses, rubbing the side of his nose where they chafed.

'What are you going to do about it?'

'I'm not sure what I can do. Get away from here, that's for sure. I don't think I could be in the same room as him and keep a civil tongue in my head.'

'Where will you go?'

'I thought Ezgardia - use my savings to invest in _objets d'art_ and sell them at a profit elsewhere - something mercantile but ethical.' He put the glasses back on and sat up. 'And if I make discreet enquiries about "procurement" whilst I'm abroad and try to do what I can to sabotage Father's nasty little trade, well, that'll be a bonus, won't it?'

'Oh, Dryden!' She plumped down on the chaise next to him and put a sisterly arm around his shoulders.

'I'm just so glad Mother isn't around to see how...corrupt he's become,' he murmured.

'Perhaps that's why she left him. Maybe she found out what he was like.'

'So why did she leave us with him?' he asked in a tight voice. 'Didn't she care about us?'

Carenza took a deep breath.

'Look, I didn't want to have to tell you this, at least not in such unpleasant circumstances. But since you're going away...' She paused, uncertain how to begin. 'I got a letter from Mother, a few years ago-'

He pulled away from her.

'You never told me.'

'You were only eleven, and I had just had one...upset in my life. I didn't feel ready to share any more bad news with anyone.'

Dryden said nothing, so she took his silence as permission to continue.

'She said that she had wanted to take us with her, but Father forbade her. In fact he had lawyers draw up a document saying that she was an unfit mother and was not allowed to see us or have any contact with us ever again. The document accused her of...well, lots of untrue things-'

'The bastard! Did she ever write to you again?'

'No, she said she was afraid to. There was no return address, so I couldn't even write back to thank her.'

'Right, that's it!' Dryden leapt to his feet. 'I'm going to fucking kill him! Slavery is bad enough, but keeping our mother from us-'

His face crumpled and he slumped back on the chaise, face buried in his hands, shoulders shaking. Carenza reached out a hand.

'Don't touch me!' he growled. He drew a ragged breath, then another. After a few moments he got to his feet, ran both hands through his hair and turned to her with a wavery smile.

'I'm sorry, sis, I didn't mean to snap at you like that. I was just afraid I'd lose it altogether if I didn't get myself under control.'

'It's all right,' she replied. 'It was my fault for telling you, when you were already upset.'

He shrugged.

'Best to get it all out in the open, face the fact that my father is the lowest, most despicable scumbag that ever crawled out of the Palas sewers.' He laughed shakily. 'Maybe I'll use my allowance to pay my way through law school, find a way to fix everything. What do you say?'

'I say that would be true justice.' She hugged him. 'I'm going to miss you, Dryden.'

He hugged her back, resting his cheek against the top of her head. She hadn't realised until that moment just how tall he had grown. Her little brother, a man.

'You could come with me,' he said after a moment.

She freed herself from his embrace, and shook her head.

'Someone should stay here and keep an eye on our father. I'll be your spy, reporting on his every move.'

'All right, but you be careful, d'ya hear? I don't want to have to rush back to defend _you_ against one of our father's lawsuits.' He held her gaze, his green eyes earnest through the pale blue glass of his ridiculous spectacles.

'I promise I will be the soul of discretion,' she said. After all, I have enough secrets to keep, so what's a few more?

* * * * * * * * * * *

Author's note: Ah well, I knew I'd have to bump up the certificate eventually. I don't think it'll need to go any higher, though there will be some lime-flavoured content towards the end.


	10. Echoes of the Past

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Disclaimer: The Vision of Escaflowne is owned by Sunrise and Bandai Entertainment. No copyright infringement is intended by this not-for-profit story, although the author would like to point out that this doesn't mean that others can freely copy this text and claim it as their own!

* * * * * * * * * * *

Dryden left Palas that very afternoon. Perhaps coincidentally, Meiden Fassa left for Zaibach on a business trip the following day. Carenza did not give up her plan to spy on their father, however. In his absence she made an appointment to see his accountant, on the grounds that her twenty-first birthday was approaching and she wished to check on the progress of her investments. 

Her father's mercenary approach to life was demonstrated in this, as in so many things. Part of her allowance was earmarked for investment, to provide a dowry for her when she married. Until she was twenty-one, the funds had to be administered by her father or one of his authorised representatives, but after that it was her own responsibility. One thing she was determined to do was to move the money out of any morally dubious ventures. Perhaps she would invest some of it in Dryden's business instead. She smiled to herself at the thought of how annoyed her father would be by that.

The accountant had offices in the business quarter of the city, some distance from the palace, so she took a carriage rather than walking as she generally preferred. She was shown into a large chamber with mint-green plaster walls and dark wooden flooring. A dingy oil painting of her great-grandfather hung over the empty fireplace. At the far end a small, rodent-like man perched behind an enormous desk piled high with bundles of documents. A pair of uncomfortable-looking wooden chairs stood on the near side of the desk.

'Ah, Miss Fassa, how good of you to come. Sit down, sit down.'

She crossed the echoing floor and took a seat on one of the chairs. It proved to be as hard on the backside as it had looked. She hoped this wouldn't take long.

'Now, then, what can I do for you, Miss Fassa?'

She craned over the piles of documents at the accountant, who peered up at her through grimy spectacles.

'I thought I had explained in my note,' she said, a little too loudly. The room trembled with the echoes. Lowering her voice she went on, 'I wish to examine my investments so that I can more effectively manage the fund myself when I come of age.'

'Ah, yes, of course.' He rummaged amongst the piles of paper. 'Dear me, I was sure I asked my assistant to look them out for me. Please excuse me.'

He hopped off the chair and disappeared through a door that had been painted to match the walls. Carenza suppressed a shudder. He really was very small and whiskery; she had half-expected to see a long hairless pink tail protruding from the seat of his trousers.

She took advantage of his absence to flick through some of the piled documents, but could see nothing more contentious than an eviction notice for a tradesman who had failed to keep up the repayments on a loan. A few minutes later the accountant returned with a sheaf of papers tied up with string.

'So refreshing to find a girl, ah, I do beg your pardon, a young lady, who is interested in the details of the financial world. Still, I do hope you know what you are doing, miss. It would be a dreadful pity to end up destitute,' he spoke the word with a relish that made Carenza's skin crawl, 'through unwise investment.'

He handed her the documents.

'Please do not hesitate to ask me if there is anything you do not understand.'

She nodded.

'May I take these away with me? I don't wish to take up your valuable time...' In fact the sooner I get out of here, the better.

'Yes, yes, of course. I dare say it will take you a while to get to grips with all the details. Not that it makes much difference...'

'What do you mean?'

'Oh, I'm sorry, I have spoken out of turn, please forgive me-'

Carenza strode round to the accountant's side of the desk. The little man cowered on his chair.

'What makes no difference?' she said slowly and clearly.

'Well, I suppose you'll find out soon enough,' he quavered. 'The master is in Zaibach to secure you a husband.'

Folken sat at his desk and surveyed his new office. It was larger than most citizens' entire homes, taking up almost half a storey of one of the towers of the imperial citadel. One long side of the room was an unbroken expanse of full-length windows looking out over the city, though the black velvet curtains were currently drawn; Folken preferred his visitors not to be distracted by the view. The blue-grey walls were bare apart from a portrait of Emperor Dornkirk draped with the Zaibach flag on the far wall. The underfloor heating had been turned down to a level which was not quite cold enough for discomfort. All in all, it did exactly what it was designed to do: promote an aura of power around the Strategos, a position newly created by the emperor for his young protégé.

The door opened, and Folken immediately turned his attention to the paperwork on his desk. A man in the short black robe of an initiate of the Third Circle approached, bowing low.

'Meiden Fassa, a delegate from the Asturian Guild of Merchant Adventurers, is here to see you, Lord Strategos.' The sorceror could not quite keep the tone of contempt out of his voice when he named Folken's title. The former prince of Fanelia's rise through their ranks had been meteoric, and his promotion to Dornkirk's right hand man still rankled with many of the old guard.

Folken nodded but did not look up from the document he was scanning.

'Show him in.'

When the sorceror had retreated to the door, Folken put his paperwork to one side and sat erect in his chair. He knew he made an intimidating impression, even seated, with his body wrapped in the high-collared cloak of a Sorceror of the First Circle and his already great height exaggerated by his spiked hair. It gave him no pleasure to control men through fear; it simply spared him the more unpleasant task of punishing them, since they were too afraid to disobey him in the first place.

A thin bearded olive-skinned man in voluminous robes shuffled in, bowing and clutching a red fez to his chest. He was accompanied by a pale round-faced man in clerk's robes, carrying a pile of small boxes.

'My Lord Strategos, such a honour to meet you,' the merchant murmured, making as if to kneel.

'You may stand,' Folken said. 'I like to be able to see a man's face when I talk to him.'

He straightened, and Folken had the feeling he had seen him before, but could not say where or when. 

'Lord Strategos, please accept the greetings and good wishes of His Majesty King Grava Efud Aston of Asturia, and with them these paltry tokens of my government's esteem.'

He gestured sharply to his companion, who held out the pile of boxes. The merchant handed them one by one to Folken, who politely lifted each lid and expressed his appreciation for each item.

'This last,' said the merchant, taking a small box from the folds of his robes, 'is a product of our own manufactories in Palas. As you may know, we have a long tradition of fine glassmaking, and the adoption of your innovative mass-production processes in our own workshops has been of inestimable value to our balance of trade.'

Folken accepted the box. It was very heavy for its size, which was hardly bigger than his left fist. He placed it carefully on the desk in front of him and lifted the lid. Nestling in red velvet was a sphere of glass, with a minute model of the royal palace of Asturia at its heart.

'This is of course a unique piece, made especially for your lordship. A paperweight, you see; both decorative and useful.'

'So I see.' If one could call such a tawdry bauble decorative.

'I thought your lordship would particularly appreciate the fine aerial view of the palace,' the merchant added.

Folken examined the paperweight more closely. His military training immediately took in the high walls, the impressive water-gate - and the wide courtyards, ideal landing spots for the new flying guymelefs he had designed. He looked back at the merchant, who smiled back ingratiatingly.

'This is a handsome gift, indeed. You perhaps hope for some favour in return?'

'Oh no, Lord Strategos, the thought never crossed my mind. Though now you mention it, there is something - though it would be as much a gift to you as a favour to myself-'

'Get to the point, Asturian.'

'Lord Strategos, I humbly suggest a political union between my house and the mighty Zaibach Empire. My daughter is...'

Folken stared at him. Beneath his cloak he unconsciously clenched his mechanical hand into a fist.

'Marriage? Is that what you are proposing?'

'I-it is traditional, my lord-'

Folken laughed; a hollow, bitter sound.

'Marriage is out of the question.'

'My lord-?'

'Get out.'

'Y-yes, my lord.' He backed away, bowing low.

'Wait! What did you say your name was?'

'Fassa, my lord. Meiden Fassa.'

Folken nodded, and gestured to the man to leave. The merchant and his companion shuffled out, bowing almost to the ground.

'Shall I show the next visitor in, Lord Strategos?' asked the sorceror.

'Give me a few minutes alone. I have important matters to consider.'

'Of course, my lord.' He bowed and left the room.

Folken shrugged back his cloak and rested his mechanical arm on the desk, using the fingers of his good hand to massage the muscles around his collarbone where the device clamped to his flesh. Fassa, Fassa. Where had he heard that name before?

_...my name is Carenza Ailea Fassa...please, just call me Carenza; I'm not a noblewoman, only a merchant's daughter..._

Gods, no. Could fate be so cruel? The girl whom he could not marry when he was a prince of Fanelia, now offered to him when he was no longer fit to be a husband? His steel-clawed hand closed around the glass paperweight, crushing it to powdery fragments.

Later, when the pain of old memories had eased a little, he went back to his research notes. Perhaps there was something in his fate equations that would explain this peculiar coincidence. He recalled a science book from the Mystic Moon that had found its way to Gaea; it described a theory that the presence of an observer changes the thing observed. Could he be the source of his own twisted destiny? It demanded further investigation.


	11. Arrangements

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Disclaimer: The Vision of Escaflowne is owned by Sunrise and Bandai Entertainment. No copyright infringement is intended by this not-for-profit story, although the author would like to point out that this doesn't mean that others can freely copy this text and claim it as their own!

* * * * * * * * * * *

The days until her father's return seemed to crawl by. Carenza read and re-read the statements of accounts she had collected from the office, and sent notes back requesting further details of the companies involved, but could find no direct evidence of unethical dealings. Was Dryden's story of slavery a figment of his undoubtedly wild imagination? Or, more likely, had their father been cautious enough to keep his shady dealings quite separate from his children's finances?

In the absence of any objectionable investments, she satisfied herself by making a list of the fastest-growing funds, which just happened to be in a number of Asturian manufactories. Instinct told her that such large profits must have hidden costs somewhere, and if Zaibach needed slaves for its manufactories then those costs were presumably paid by the workers. Well, her share in them would be going into something less exploitative in future.

If she had a future as an independent woman, that is.

When her father finally returned, she sought him out immediately with the intention of getting the horrid business over with as quickly as possible. Arriving at her father's apartments thus unannounced, she was surprised to see a chambermaid just leaving.

'Thank you for the prompt...service, my dear.' her father was saying. 'I trust you'll be back bright and early tomorrow morning.'

'Oh, er, yes sir,' the girl stammered, and slipped past Carenza with a perfunctory curtsey. She didn't look a day over fifteen.

'Ah, Carenza, my dear!' Meiden was lounging on the chaise, smoking a black, evil-smelling cigarette in a tortoiseshell holder. His presence was a dark blot in the gold-and-white elegance of the room.

He patted the chaise seat next to him, but Carenza perched herself on a low stool just out of reach.

'Father, I, well, I've heard that you have been seeking to make arrangements on my behalf.'

'Indeed I have, my dear, and what father would not do as much for his lovely daughter? I should have done this long ago, of course, but the king's needs took precedence...'

She suddenly remembered the conversation she and Dryden had overheard all those years ago. She guessed that King Aston still opposed marrying one of his daughters to a Zaibach leader, leaving her father to seize the opportunity.

'H-have you found me a husband, then?'

'Indeed I have, though of course the negotiations are at a very early stage. Nevertheless I am confident of eventual success.' He smiled complacently and drew on his cigarette. 'Would you like to know who he is?'

Carenza nodded, though she really did not care since she had no intention of marrying any man her father approved of.

'They call him Lord Strategos, though I confess I do not know if that is his name or simply his title. He is military chief-of-staff and the most powerful man in Zaibach, apart from the emperor hmself, of course. Nothing but the best for my little girl, eh?'

Carenza tried to smile, but had to press her lips together to prevent their trembling. She knew her father's ambitions ran high, but she had been expecting his choice to be a fellow industrialist, not a military leader.

'Now,' he went on, 'where did I put the present I brought back for you? Belkin!'

The study doors opened, and the round-faced clerk looked out.

'Sir?'

'Belkin, where did I put my daughter's present?'

'I think I packed it in you portmanteau, sir. Shall I go and look for it? I believe the servants took it through into your bedchamber.'

'Ah, no thank you, I'll find it myself.' He stubbed out the cigarette and disappeared into the bedroom.

The clerk started to close the study doors.

'Um, Belkin?'

'Yes, miss?'

'You were with my father in Zaibach, were you not?'

'Yes, miss.'

She had to know, and she might get a halfway honest answer from the man; she certainly wouldn't get anything but flattery from her father.

'What was Lord Strategos like?'

'Well, I only saw him the once, miss, and he didn't say much. Very tall man, he was, and serious-looking, with sort of blue hair and peculiar tattoos on his face.'

Not very promising, she had to admit.

'Young or old?'

'Young, I'd say, but then they reckon Emperor Dornkirk is over two hundred years old, so this Strategos could have been older than me, maybe as old as your father, even.'

Old as my father? Could it get any worse?

'Oh, and one other thing,' the clerk went on. 'I never saw it myself, but they say he has a metal claw where his right hand should be.'

Carenza shivered. This was even worse than she had imagined. There was only one thing for it. She would have to run away before the marriage negotiations could be completed.

The important thing was not to let her father know her intentions. The man who had twisted the law to his purposes in order to keep his wife from seeing her own children would surely stop at nothing to prevent his daughter from thwarting his ambitions. So, she sat and smiled and thanked him for his gift - a clock that could be set to ring a little brass bell at a given time of day - and even kissed him dutifully on the cheek when she left.

Once she was safely back in her rooms, however, she wrote a letter to Dryden. A heliogram would have been faster, but she was not about to have her escape plans flashed from hilltop to hilltop for anyone who knew the code to read. Letters could be opened and resealed, of course, but since she wrote it using a script that she and Dryden had invented when they were children, no-one would be able to read it anyway.

'Dear brother,' she wrote. 'I have just found out that Father intends me to marry some creepy old Zaibach general. Of course I have no intention of doing so, but I need your help to prevent it. I am due to visit Marlene in Fried next month, and I hoped you might come for me there at less risk than if you came to Asturia. Pray God that our father's negotiations do not bear fruit before that time. Your loving sister, C.'

How she got through the next few weeks, she hardly knew. A few days before their departure for Freid, a letter finally came from Dryden.

'My poor sister! Of course I will come for you. As you rightly guessed, as long as my ship stays outside Asturia's borders there is not much our father can do against us. At the worst we may be obliged to remain in permanent exile, but that is better than the kind of fate you describe. I hope to be in Fried on or soon after the 11th Moon of Red. Yours, D.'

Even better than the news from Dryden was the fact that their father had made no more mention of the marriage, at least not in any concrete terms; she guessed that his mercantile instincts were even stronger than his ambition, causing him to haggle over the details of the settlement despite the delays it would cause.

The day of their journey to Freid came at last. Carenza had thought that Allen might accompany them, but it seemed that he had duties elsewhere. Lately he had been spending much of his time refurbishing his family guymelef, Scherezade, and the princesses had seen little of him. She wondered if he knew that Prince Chid was his son, or if he was simpy jealous that Marlene had apparently had a child by the man she been so reluctant to marry. Carenza could think of no tactful way to find out, and so on the few occasions she did see him could offer no comfort.

Once the leviship took off she felt as if a burden had been lifted from her. She had not realised until that moment how she had been constantly tensing her jaw, her shoulders, her hands. Now the relief she felt bubbled up into joy, and she chased around the narrow corridors of the ship with Millerna, giggling like a schoolgirl. The captain of the leviship was not impressed, but could hardly reprimand the princess or her lady-in-waiting.

They landed at Godashim, the capital of Freid, on the following day. Marlene came out to meet them; she was looking radiant, and hugged them all with cries of delight. She exclaimed over how much Millerna had grown, and apologised to her sisters that they would not see their nephew straight away as it was his afternoon nap time. Then the duke stepped forward to add his own greetings, and Carenza was surprised to note the mutual tenderness between him and Marlene, that showed itself in every glance and gesture. Was it possible that Marlene had gotten over Allen and was now truly as much in love with her husband as he obviously was with her?

* * * * * * * * * * *

Author's note: A heliograph is basically just a mirror used to transmit messages by reflecting the sun's rays in a series of flashes (using Morse code or similar); the message sent by these means is therefore a heliogram. In my non-fan fictional world, these are used in lieu of telegrams for fast communications, and I thought they would fit the tech level of non-Zaibach Gaea nicely.


	12. Love of Art/Art of Love

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Firstly, a belated thank-you to everyone who has reviewed my story. I'm glad you're enjoying it - I know I am, I've been walking around for the past week or so with a big silly grin on my face! It's also interesting to see what you hope will happen. Whilst I write as my Muse moves me and am not planning to give you exactly what you ask for (where would be the fun - or the power trip - in that?), I can promise you that I have plenty more ideas lined up and even a few surprises, I hope. Thanks again - nariya.

Secondly, I'm bored with pasting the disclaimer into every chapter - see previous chapters for details.

* * * * * * * * * * *

'I fell so stupid about Allen,' Marlene said, as soon as the maid left the room.

She and Carenza were sitting in the drawing room of the villa the duke had built for his beloved wife. Millerna was in the nursery with Prince Chid and his nanny, Eries had retired to her room with a migraine, and the duke had returned to the palace on business, so the two of them had a brief period of privacy over afternoon tea.

'I thought I loved him, I really did,' Marlene went on. 'But I think looking back that I was just so scared about getting married, I was looking for a distraction - and Allen was it.'

'It's understandable,' Carenza replied, stirring her tea. 'You were young and impressionable-'

'In other words an idiot! You don't have to tell me. To think that I preferred a callow boy over...' She smiled fondly. 'He knows, you know.'

'Allen? About the baby?'

'Oh no. I meant that my husband knows, that Allen is the father. And do you know what? He accepts it. He accepts my son - my bastard - as his own.' Tears welled in Marlene's eyes. 'I don't deserve a man like that.'

Realisation dawned. 'That's why you love him.'

'Yes,' she whispered. 'He is the kindest, most generous man I have ever met. People think of him as cold and stern, but they do not see him as I do, as a loving father and husband.' She smiled coyly over the rim of her teacup. 'And so much better at lovemaking than Allen, too.'

'Marlene!'

'Well, it's true. Allen was just a boy, and I was little better - we had no idea what we were doing. In my haste to lose my virginity I didn't mind that he was clumsy but, well, it can't compare with being with a man who knows how to please a woman.' She blushed. 'I probably shouldn't be telling you all this, but I wanted you to understand, to know that I am truly happy in my marriage.'

'I'm so glad for you, Marlene.'

'You know, you don't look so happy yourself, now that I come to think of it. Is everything all right?'

'I'm fine, really,' Carenza said, taking a sip of tea. 'Just the change of climate, I expect.'

'Freid is rather humid this time of year,' Marlene agreed. 'I'm still not used to it myself.'

Carenza nodded. She felt guilty about not confiding in Marlene, but she suspected her friend would tell her not to worry about the arranged marriage, given that her own had worked out so well. Somehow Carenza doubted that she would have similarly good fortune.

Dryden's ship, the _Parunachian_, landed outside Godashim on the eleventh moon of Red, right on schedule. Carenza had been watching for it all morning, and was waiting on the steps of the palace when the sedan chair arrived. The gauzy curtains parted and Dryden climbed out, followed by a young man Carenza had never seen before. The stranger wore the tight breeches and open-necked shirt popular with the young men of Asturia, and his light brown curly hair was cut in a jaw-length bob.

'Sis!' Dryden bounded up the steps, hugged her and planted a swift kiss on each cheek, then stepped back. 'Sister, I would like to introduce Alessandro di Luca, a dear friend of mine and the greatest living painter in all Gaea. Sandro, this is my sister, Carenza Fassa.'

Alessandro bowed elaborately. He was not quite handsome, with a heavy jaw and one eye ever so slightly lower than the other, but he had an air of quiet intensity that made him more attractive than looks ever could.

'It is a pleasure to meet you, signorina. Your brother has told me much about you, but neglected to say how beautiful you are.' He bent to kiss her hand.

Carenza blushed. 'You are too kind, sir.'

'Sandro, you tell every woman you meet that she is beautiful,' Dryden complained.

He shrugged.

'I am an artist; I see beauty in everything.'

'Then your compliments are meaningless,' Carenza said, feeling annoyed with herself for falling for his flattery.

'Oh no!' the artist cried. 'I meant every word. Please forgive me, signorina, I intended no offence.'

Dryden patted him on the shoulder.

'It's all right, Sandro, you can't help it if the rest of the world doesn't see things the way you do.'

Dryden wandered off, staring up at the carvings on the front of the palace, oblivious to the adoring look on Alessandro's face. Carenza thought dryly that the young artist saw certain things very differently to most men.

Out of deference to his wife's obvious delight in having familiar faces around her, Duke Freid pressed Dryden and his companion to stay to dinner. They could hardly refuse, and though Carenza chafed at the delay she knew it was best not to be seen to be in a hurry to leave.

Dinner was served at the villa in the Asturian style, on a long table laid with white linen and bone china, but the food was the finest local cuisine: tiny freshwater shellfish fritters with a fiery dipping sauce, vegetables cut into delicate shapes and cooked with ginger and lemongrass, and heaps of fragrant rice. Dessert was a fabulous arrangement of sliced fresh fruit and edible flowers, and instead of wine they were served pot after pot of scented tea, until they were all high on caffeine and chattering nineteen to the dozen.

Carenza was sitting opposite her brother, and couldn't help noticing how often his eyes strayed towards Millerna. She said as much to Alessandro, who had been seated to her right. The artist looked mournful.

'Your father is talking of their being betrothed,' he explained.

'What!' 

Eries raised an eyebrow, and Carenza pretended to have choked on a piece of honeyfruit. After a few minutes she leant towards Alessandro and hissed. 'But she's only eleven.'

'It is only a gentleman's agreement between your father and the king, as I understand it.' he replied.

'You obviously don't know my father,' she said. Emboldened by Alessandro's charm and an excess of jasmine tea she added, 'There's not many people who would speak the words 'gentleman' and 'Meiden Fassa' in the same sentence.'

'I have not had the pleasure of meeting him, it is true.'

'Believe me, you don't want to. And if King Aston is at all favourable towards the arrangement, it's as good as sealed.'

Further discussion was prevented by Princess Eries, who fixed Alessandro with a polite smile and asked what he was painting at the moment.

'It is a portrait of my patron, Lord Dryden. He has beautiful bones, very lovely to draw,' the artist said without any trace of self-consciousness, 'but he will fidget, so it is taking rather a long time.'

'Do you hear that, brother? You will have to learn to sit still, or poor Alessandro here will never finish your portrait.'

Dryden waved a fruit fork at her.

'You should try sitting still with a lap full of wheatsheaf. I swear there are harvest mice in there.'

'Why do you have a wheatsheaf-?'

'I am painting him as the god of the harvest,' said Alessandro, 'the golden shades of autumn sunlight and ripening fruit go so well with your brother's skin tones, don't you think?'

Carenza couldn't help it; she burst into giggles. Dryden looked at her over the top of his glasses.

'What's so funny?' he asked.

'You...the god...of the harvest-' she spluttered. 'You've never been near a farm in your life.'

'Well, personally I think I would make a better god of learning, but Sandro here doesn't think books are sensual enough.'

An uncomfortable image was forming in Carenza's mind; she had seen a fair few classical paintings around the palace in Asturia.

'You do have some clothes on in this portrait, I hope,' she said, giving him an old-fashioned look.

Dryden gestured broadly.

'Well, draperies, certainly. I wouldn't say they were clothes as such.'

The duke coughed.

'I think that's enough of that kind of talk in front of the young ladies, my friends. Perhaps if they would like to withdraw, I can show Maestro Alessandro some books from my personal collection that might change his mind.'

Eries rose from her seat and beckoned to Millerna.

'It is getting late, dear,' she said.

Millerna pouted, but allowed herself to be led away. Carenza lagged behind Marlene, hoping to overhear something of interest, but the duke steadfastly discussed politics with Dryden until the ladies were well out of earshot. She was happy for Marlene, but she could not help but feel that she would not be content with such a stuffy fellow as the duke. The man she married would have to have a little more respect for women's minds, not just their hearts and bodies.


	13. Unfinished Business

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They left Freid the following day and flew north towards Ezgardia. The _Parunachian_ was accompanied by a handful of smaller vessels, mostly freighters loaded with the bulkier trade goods. The most valuable items were kept aboard the main ship, along with Dryden's personal acquisitions. The shelves of the newly-refitted library were already filling up with obscure volumes, including several that he had bought in Freid.

His most treasured books were kept in a glass-fronted cabinet. They were a motley collection, in all sizes and states of repair. Some were printed in fuzzy type on thick creamy paper, others had coloured pictures or glossy paper , and a few were painstaking handwritten. The only thing they had in common was that not one was written in a script that Carenza recognised.

'They're from the Mystic Moon,' Dryden explained. 'I don't know how they get here - they just seem to turn up at random.'

'How do you find them?'

'I have contacts: booksellers and curio shops who let me know when someone brings in something unusual.'

Carenza picked one up. It was a small volume with thin covers and paper yellowing at the edges. The front showed a pair of young women in long loose frocks, carrying parasols.

'That's a storybook,' he said. 'I haven't translated much of it yet; it seems to be about a man named Dashwood and his descendants.'

'You can read it?'

He pulled out a fat book with familiar Gaean writing on the spine.

'This is my real prize: a guide to the secret language of the Zaibach sorcerors. It's called English, and seems to come from the Mystic Moon. Some of these books are written in it, but not all. So far I've identified eleven different languages in five scripts.'

'Can you teach me?' Carenza asked.

'I'll try. English isn't an easy language. Well, it seems easy at first because the words are short and simple, but there are so many ways to put them together. And the written language has very complicated rules. I wouldn't like to try and speak it to a native, but I can understand well enough to read most things.'

'Well, I'm not planning to go anywhere else for some time, and it will give me something interesting to do.'

Carenza found the project totally absorbing. She worked through the exercises from the primer with Dryden, and was soon practicing with him whilst he posed for his portrait. At first Alessandro objected to the distraction, but as she grew more fluent and confident, her reading occupied Dryden's attention so thoroughly that he forgot to fidget. Despite this improvement in his sitter's behaviour, however, the artist continued to look disapprovingly at her every time she attended a sitting. It was most vexing. She was trying to like the man - did like him, in most respects - but his jealousy of her closeness to Dryden was rather tiresome.

One evening after dinner, when Dryden had gone off to look for a book he had mislaid, Alessandro approached her with a look of determination on his face.

'You don't trust me, do you, signorina?'

Carenza pretended not to understand what he meant.

'With your brother,' he added.

She cursed inwardly. She had been hoping to avoid a confrontation like this, hoping that a display of vigilance on her part would be sufficient. Now Alessandro was forcing the issue. She put down her own book and looked up at him.

'Well can you blame me?' she said. 'He is only sixteen, and you're, what, twenty-two? Twenty-three?'

'Twenty-two,' he said, taking a seat on the couch opposite her and leaning forward with his hands clasped loosely in his lap. 'Six years is not so great a difference, you know. Are you not five years older than him yourself?'

She looked away.

'I know what's really bothering you,' he said, his eyes narrowing. 'It is because you think it is wrong for a man to love another man.'

'No, I don't.' 

'I don't believe you.'

Carenza turned to look at him. His face was set in an expression of contempt, but there was fear and hopelessness in his eyes. She chose her next words carefully.

'If I had a sixteen-year-old sister, and I found out that she had been posing half-naked for a man who was clearly in love with her, would I be wrong to fear for her virtue?'

'No, but-'

'But boys are different.'

'Yes.'

'Because you cannot get a boy pregnant or ruin his chances in the marriage market, that makes him fair game?'

Alessandro had the grace to look sheepish.

'I suppose when you put it like that, it does seem rather unfair,' he said.

'Yes it does.'

He laughed softly, leaning back in his seat.

'What's so funny?' she asked.

'I was just thinking that this whole conversation is so pointless.'

'Pointless! I cannot believe that you can be so insensitive!' She tried to keep her voice down, fearing that Dryden would return at any moment.

'My dear signorina, the conversation is pointless because your brother is completely uninterested in me.'

'He is?'

Alessandro laughed again, more loudly this time.

'If you had seen the books he bought in Freid, you would not doubt that he has a healthy interest in young ladies. And I am not so _insensitive_ as to press my attentions where they are not welcome.'

'Oh.'

He leant forward again, gazing directly into her eyes.

'What kind of monster do you think I am? You think that because I cannot entirely stop my eyes from following him or my heart from loving him, that I cannot command my limbs well enough to leave him alone?'

'I'm sorry. It's just, well, this is all quite new and strange to me. I've read about it in books, the love of one man for another, I mean, but it is simply not discussed in polite society. I-' She blushed. 'I've never actually met someone like...like you before.'

He smiled and patted her hand. 'That's all right. As long as you don't hate me, I can forgive you for doubting me.'

'Found it!' Dryden sauntered in, waving a book. 'Hey, Sandro, if you're going to paw my sister I hope you intend to make an honest woman of her.'

Carenza and Alessandro just looked at one another and burst into fits of laughter, leaving Dryden to scratch his head in bewilderment.

The painting, which Alessandro had titled "Divine Bounty", was finished at last. Dryden wanted to hang it in the dining room, but Carenza persuaded him that he would enjoy it more if he hung it in his study where he would see it every day. She refrained from adding that so openly sensuous a picture really belonged in a boudoir, not on public display.

'So, what will you do now you've finished my brother's portrait, Master di Luca?'

He looked wistfully at Dryden, who was trying the picture out on various walls of his study. There were fewer bookshelves in here than in the library proper, but the choices were still limited.

'I have an offer of a commission in Daedalus,' he said. 'A fresco depicting the Fall of Atlantis.'

'He's been begging birds' wings from the kitchens in order to understand their anatomy, you know,' said Dryden, looking over his shoulder. 'At first I thought you were planning to dress me in feathers, Sandro.'

'That would have been a very bad idea - you would _never_ have sat still then. No, the wings are for the Atlanteans.'

'They had wings?' Dryden asked. 'Cool! Hey, does that mean they're related to Draconians?' He put the painting down, interested now they were discussing one of his favourite topics - ancient mysteries.

'Draconians?' Carenza asked. She had heard that name somewhere before.

'Some people call them demons,' Alessandro explained, 'but the old legends say they are the descendants of the people of Atlantis.'

'Are there any still alive?'

'Oh yes,' said Dryden, 'there are still a few Draconians on Gaea, though they generally hide the fact from humans.'

'I would have thought it was pretty difficult to hide something like that. Unless the wings are very small.'

'I imagine their wings are quite large, since they are said to be able to fly,' Alessandro said.

Dryden nodded vigorously.

'As I understand it, the wings are kind of magical; they can just pop them in and out when they need them, so most of the time they look just like ordinary humans.'

Carenza gasped. Ordinary humans?

'That was what she meant...'

'Who?'

'Queen Varie.' She told them all about the night she had overheard Varie and Balgus talking, shortly after Folken had gone missing. 'She said that the Heart of Fanel - this ring - might react more strongly to Draconian blood than that of humans. I always thought she meant dragon's blood - but what if she meant Folken's own?'

'Prince Folken of Fanelia is - was - a Draconian?'

She nodded.

'His brother Van must be, too,' she went on slowly. 'And at least one of their parents.' She looked at her brother. 'Dryden, when we've dropped Alessandro off in Daedalus, can we visit Fanelia? I have some unfinished business there.'

* * * * * * * * * * *

In case you're curious, Dryden's books are mostly in various European languages, with a handful in Russian, Greek, Japanese and Urdu. The novel is a cheap paperback copy of "Sense and Sensibility", by Jane Austen.


	14. Here Be Dragons

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It felt very strange, approaching the Fanelian palace, as if the last six years had never happened. This time, however, when she announced herself at the gates, she received an immediate response, and one not to her liking.

'I'm sorry, miss, but we have orders not to admit you,' said the guard.

'Whose orders? You do know that I am a personal friend of Prince Van?' It was stretching the point a little; she doubted Van would recognise her, having been only five years old last time they met, but it was worth a try.

'All I know is that I have orders from the Regency Council not to admit a Miss Carenza Fassa,' replied the guard, looking somewhat embarrassed.

She turned to Dryden.

'This is Balgus's doing,' she said. 'He never liked me. You know he couldn't get rid of me fast enough, after...'

Dryden shrugged.

'Well, these guys don't look the bribeable type, and I don't see how else we can get in there. C'mon, sis, we're just wasting our time here.'

They climbed back into the carriage and Dryden signalled the driver to return to the _Parunachian_.

'What were you hoping to find out, anyhow?' he asked as they drove off.

'I don't know. Van is so young; I don't know how much he remembers about his mother and brother. If they were the only other Draconians in Fanelia, he might know nothing about his heritage.' She sighed. 'I just can't bring myself to believe that Folken is dead. When I found out he was a Draconian, I thought there might be a chance that someone had seen him fly away...'

Dryden nodded thoughtfully.

'Maybe they did, and didn't realise that that's what they saw. Why don't we try and find out where he was last seen? I figure the dragons must live quite a way from here.'

She smiled.

'That's a great idea, little brother!' She hugged him. 'What would I do without you?'

It took them over a week to find the forest where Folken had disappeared. The general opinion was that Prince Folken was a coward who had run away from his Rite of Dragonslaying, and that if he wasn't dead, well, he wasn't wanted in Fanelia. Discreet enquiries on the subject of Draconians proved Carenza's other suspicions; that many Fanelians were not impressed that their king had married one, and were rather relieved that the Queen had died before she could pass on any 'demonic' ideas to her surviving son. Carenza was coming to think that maybe her father hadn't been so wrong about these people, calling them barbarians. 

Then, in an inn in a village whose name she had never bothered to ask, they met a wolfman who claimed to have seen an enormous white bird flying above the forest around the time that Folken and Varie disappeared. Carenza had been tempted to write him off as just another crank, until he went back to his cottage to fetch his evidence. It was a snow-white feather, larger than any she had ever seen before. Dryden confirmed that it was too large to have come from any bird.

'Even the royal swans of northern Zaibach don't have wings that large,' he commented.

'May I buy it from you?' Carenza asked the wolfman.

'How much?' he growled.

She showed him a couple of silver coins. He held up five stubby fingers. She shook her head.

'Three.'

'Four.'

Carenza was about to suggest a compromise price when she caught herself. This is the first tangible evidence I've found, and I'm haggling over its value. I'm getting as bad as Father!

'Four it is,' she said, and counted out the coins. The wolfman handed her the feather. 'And another five if you can lead me to the place where you found this,' she added.

Eager as she was to complete her quest, Carenza decided to wait until next morning before searching the forest, so as to have as much daylight as possible. After all, it had been six years; one more day would make little difference. They rose at dawn, therefore, and followed the wolfman deep into the forest. Dryden complained endlessly about the uncomfortable saddles, the heat and the mosquitos.

'We should have flown,' he grumbled for the umpteenth time.

'There's nowhere to land up here,' Carenza replied. 'Besides, a little exercise is good for you. You spend far too much time hunched over a book.'

Dryden made a rude noise and tried to ignore their guide's sniggering.

Aroung midmorning they topped a low rise and found themselves looking down on a wide pool, almost a lake really. A covey of ducks took off from the bank, their legs dangling below bullet-shaped bodies, but they only went as far as the centre of the pool. They landed in a flurry of ripples and then swam about, wagging their rumps as if to say, see, we were just coming out here anyway.

'This is the place.' The wolfman gestured to the bank.

Carenza thanked him and handed over two silvers.

'You said five,' he complained.

'Two to bring us here, one to wait until we've done, and two to guide us back to your village.'

The wolfman grumbled, but tied up the mounts and settled himself under a tree.

'I wait until the sun is halfway down the sky, and if you not back I leave without you. And if I smell dragon I go anyway.'

'All right, all right,' said Dryden. 'We'll be back soon, I promise.'

They left the wolfman to his nap and wandered down to the water's edge.

'I don't know what you expect to find, after all this time,' Dryden said.

'I'm not sure, either. I just know I won't be happy until I've proved things to myself, one way or the other.'

She walked along the edge of the pool.

'This way!'

'How do you know?' he asked, trailing behind her.

She shrugged.

'I just know.'

The invisible trail led away from the pool, through the trees, across a small stream and along a game trail to a small clearing. As she crossed the clearing, the Heart of Fanel seemed to tremble on her finger, as if excited by its master's presence.

'Here we are,' she announced.

'It looks like every other part of the forest to me,' Dryden said.

Carenza looked around. The ground was mostly bare leafmould, the accumulated debris of years. Of six years? She fell to her knees and began scrabbling at the mould. The top layer of dead leaves soon gave way to rich brown humus, with a warm earthy scent that seemed almost edible. Shiny black beetles scuttled back into the shelter of undisturbed ground. Then, a glint of metal. 

'Dryden, I've found something!' She picked up a piece of fallen bark and began scraping at the earth.

'What is it?' He hunkered down next to her.

'It looks like...a sword.' It was a sword. A little rusted now along the edge of the blade, but not terribly old. 'Ah, here's the hilt. Oh god, that's the badge of Fanel. Th-this really is Folken's sword...'

She rocked back on her heels.

'Here, let me have a look.'

Dryden took out a small leather case and held up a narrow trowel. 'Archaeologist's tools. Bought them in Daedalus,' he explained. 'Thought they might come in handy for investigations.'

He scraped around the hilt a little more and tried to pull the sword free. It wouldn't move.

'Damn, it's caught on something.'

'Could be tree roots,' she suggested.

He dug the trowel under the crosspiece and levered the sword free of the earth. Some of the roots came with it...no, they weren't roots, they were bones, skeletal fingers clamped around the haft-

He dropped the thing with a cry of alarm.

Carenza stared, horrified, for a long moment then turned away and retched noisily into the piled leaves. Tears stung her eyes. Folken!

'Sweet Jeture...' Dryden murmured.

They made a desultory search for more remains, but found nothing, and eventually they buried the sword and the few bones in a pathetic little grave, with such prayers as they could remember. Carenza picked some wild flowers and placed them carefully in front of the makeshift headstone.

'What I can't understand,' she said, 'is why no-one found anything at the time. There were search parties out looking for Queen Varie, and I'm guessing that those wolfmen have a pretty good sense of smell...' Her voice trailed off. She didn't like where her thoughts were leading, but could not let the matter go.

They stood in silence for a while.

'Well, maybe-' started Dryden.

'What?'

'No, you don't want to hear it.'

'Please, tell me.'

'Well, maybe they didn't find...the sword, because it wasn't here when they searched. That was only a couple of days after he disappeared, right?'

'Yes.'

'We-ell, reptiles have a slower metabolism than mammals, so if a dragon ate something it couldn't digest, it might be a while before it...sicked it up again.'

Carenza pulled a face.

'Eeww! You're right, I did _not_ want to hear that!'

He shrugged.

'You did ask.' 

There was another long silence.

'So, what now?' he asked.

'I guess I go home to Palas,' she said.

'What about father's plans?'

'I don't really care any more. Whilst there was still some hope of Folken being alive there seemed some point in-in waiting, but now...'

He put an arm around her shoulders.

'You know you're welome to stay with me as long as you like.'

'I know. But I'd like to see the princesses again, too. I've been away for months, and Eries is probably rather lonely now that Marlene is in Freid.'

'All right, if you insist. Next stop, Palas.'

* * * * * * * * * * *

Author's Note: the first draft of this chapter was one of the first bits I wrote - call me a ghoul, but I just had a morbid fascination with what happened to Folken's arm...


	15. Accusations

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They arrived in Palas to find all the flags at half-mast and the palace gates draped in black. Dryden stopped the carriage and leaned out to speak to the nearest guard.

'What's happened? Is King Aston dead?'

'No, sir,' the guard replied. 'Princess Marlene.'

Carenza gave an involuntary cry of grief.

'Are you sure, man?' Dryden asked.

'Oh, yes, sir. The news came five days ago.'

Dryden signalled for the driver to move on, and sat back inside the coach.

'Five days,' Carenza whispered.

'We were in the wilds of Fanelia,' Dryden pointed out. 'News can take weeks to reach a remote place like that.'

'Poor Eries! Poor, poor Millerna! I should have been here for them.'

'You're here now,' he said, squeezing her hand.

Carenza all but ran to the royal apartments. She burst into the familiar downstairs parlour, and paused. It was very dark inside; all the curtains were drawn, and the mirror over the mantelpiece was shrouded in black crepe. A single oil lamp burned on a side table, and as her eyes adjusted to the gloom she could make out a tall slender figure in black, seated by the empty hearth.

'Eries?'

The middle - now eldest - princess looked up. Her face was as white as the marble fireplace against the black of her mourning costume, and there were grey smudges beneath her eyes.

'C-Carenza?'

She stood, and Carenza rushed over to hug her.

'Marlene is- is- she's-' Eries burst into tears. Carenza could not recall ever having seen Eries cry, even as a child. She still felt too numb to cry herself.

'I know, I know,' she murmured comfortingly.

After a few moments the princess regained her self-possession and wiped her eyes.

'I'm so glad you're here,' she sniffed. 'Father has suspended all court business for a week's mourning and Millerna hasn't left her bed since the news arrived.'

Carenza guided her towards the sofa and they both sat down.

'How did Marlene-? She looked so well when we visited last year.'

'About three months ago I received a letter from her,' Eries said, 'saying that she was pregnant again. She sounded so happy...'

And so she would, Carenza thought. A legitimate child for her beloved duke.

'Then about a fortnight ago a short note arrived, saying that she had lost the baby and was unwell as a result. The- the next thing we knew- a heliogram from Godashim announced that she was-' She twined her black-gloved hands in her lap.

'Did the message say how?'

'J-just "after a short illness" - it was one of those official announcements.' She looked up and smiled weakly. 'If Millerna were not so upset, I'm sure she could tell us all the medical details.'

Carenza drew a deep breath. First Folken, now Marlene. How many more of those close to her was she going to lose? Of course Folken was long gone, but finding proof of it had only reopened old wounds - and now this...

'How is Allen taking it?' she asked.

'Allen's in jail.'

'What?'

'Ever since the news came, he's been going out every night, getting blind drunk. Last night he went to the opera and stood up right in the middle of "Il Pensiero della Gettura" to accuse my father of killing Marlene.'

'My God! Did no-one try to stop him?'

'It was all so sudden. One minute he was sitting quietly listening to Meifia's solo; the next, he stood up in his private box and started yelling "King Aston is a murderer!" The city guard had no choice but to arrest him on a charge of treason.'

Carenza shook her head in disbelief. She knew Allen had loved Marlene, but such an excessive display of grief could only set the gossips' tongues wagging.

'What happens now?' she asked.

'I don't know. The Knights of Heaven come under the jurisdiction of the king himself. I'm going to talk to Father and see if I can get the charge reduced.'

'And if you can't?'

'There is only one penalty for treason.'

Neither of them spoke the word, but it rang in their minds as clearly as if it had been shouted.

Death.

King Aston had forbidden his daughters to visit Allen in jail, but that did not prevent Carenza from going. Eries had given her a note to pass to Allen if she could. Carenza wondered what could be in it that could not be more safely conveyed by speech, and said as much.

'It's- I just feel compelled to send my condolences personally,' Eries said. 'It is easier to write it down than to rehearse a message for another to say.'

Carenza just nodded and took her leave of the princess. This was not easy for any of them.

She made her way to the basement level of the palace. It was not a dungeon in the traditional sense; the cells were bare but clean, with iron bars from floor to ceiling and a narrow window high on the opposite wall. As if in compensation for this lack of privacy, the small latrine was situated in a tiny room of its own, discreetly out of sight. She was shown to the end of the row, where Allen sat on the bed, his head in his hands, long blond hair skimming the stone floor. He was wearing his Knights of Heaven uniform; the snowy white shirt and blue serge trousers were as immaculate as ever.

'Allen?'

He looked up. Hope flared in his eyes for a moment, then he realised that it was only Carenza and his smile faded.

'Oh, it's you.' After a pause, he bowed stiffly. 'Forgive me, Miss Fassa. I am not myself at the moment.'

He stepped into the light, and Carenza suppressed a grimace. His clothes might be unmarked, but there was a large purpling bruise on his left cheekbone and his eyes were bloodshot, though whether from a hangover or weeping she could not tell.

'That's all right,' she said. 'We have all been badly shaken by...events.'

He nodded.

'Your friends still remember you kindly,' she added, holding the note against her body so that the guards could not see it, but waving it slightly to attract Allen's attention. To his credit, he gave it only the briefest glance then stepped closer, holding her eyes with his own.

'And you, dear lady - would you spare a kiss for a condemned man?'

She was about to object, but Allen's eyes flicked towards the note and away. Oh, a ruse to get close enough to pass it. She smiled.

'It would be a pleasure.'

She glanced back at the guard.

'May I?'

He frowned.

'We're not supposed to let anyone have close contact with the prisoner...'

She pulled out her purse and counted out three gold coins.

'I'm sure you know the sentence for treason,' she whispered. 'Surely you can let a condemned man enjoy a last kiss. I promise I'm not carrying any weapons or other means of escape.'

The guard palmed the coins and leered at her.

'I suppose I shouldn't be surprised that a pretty boy like him has the ladies paying for his favours instead of the other way around.'

Carenza bit back a retort; she didn't want to antagonise the man and waste this opportunity. Instead she bobbed a curtsey and returned to Allen's cell. He was pressed against the bars, and when she stepped up close to him he cupped her face in his gloved hands and leant his head as far out as he could. His long blond hair fell between them like a curtain, and whilst he kissed her he lowered the hand farthest from the guard and Carenza slipped the note into his waiting fingers. His lips were soft and warm, but if there was any passion behind them it was meant for another. For a moment she allowed herself to imagine that he was Folken; a shared kiss for their lost loves. Then he was releasing her, and the real world flooded back.

'I-I'd better go,' she murmured, and he nodded.

'Thank you, sweet lady. I will remember you.'

The trial took place a couple of days later, once the official period of full public mourning was over. Carenza was relieved to hear that the case would not be heard in open court, being a military matter not a civil one. She and Dryden were not allowed to attend, but in a surprise move Eries was not only in court but spoke as the chief witness for the defence. The siblings paced Carenza's apartment for four long hours before a messenger came with news.

Eries' eloquence had prevailed. The charge of treason was dropped in favour of "causing an affray" and a verdict passed of "guilty owing to a temporary fit of insanity brought on by grief". Allen retained his title of Knight of Heaven but was relieved of his post on the palace guard and sent to command a remote fort in the swamplands; an ignominious demotion for one of the kingdom's warrior elite.

After a discreet interval it was announced that Princess Eries had abdicated her position as heir presumptive owing to ill-health, her title of Crown Princess thus passing to her sister Millerna. Carenza later found out that this was the price King Aston had demanded in return for sparing Allen's life. So the princess who had once thought of Allen Schezar only as her ticket to power had fallen in love after all, and given up her throne forever to save him even though he was still in love with her sister.

Carenza found herself wondering how Allen managed, without any sign of malice in his heart, to sail through life leaving so much emotional wreckage in his wake.

END OF PART TWO

* * * * * * * * * * *

Author's Note: the opera "Il Pensiero della Gettura" was invented by my friend Sarah-neko for her own Allen story "In Disgrace with Fortune" (in a very different context!). Thanks for letting me use it, Sarah!

Part Three coming soon - I'm afraid you may have to wait a couple of weeks as I am away on holiday.


	16. Altered Fates

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PART III - MINDS

> 'Things base and vile, holding no quantity,   
Love can transpose to form and dignity.   
Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind,   
And therefore is wing'd Cupid painted blind.'
> 
> William Shakespeare, _A Midsummer Night's Dream_

Folken looked down at the finished sketch. It was a good design: more graceful than the Alceides, though without the stealth cloak that made those guymelefs such a formidable weapon. No, this was designed for a different type of mission, one that relied on aerial attack and fast getaway rather than the brute force of the Alceides.

There was something missing though. The machine looked too cold and soulless; so unlike the two test pilots he had in mind. He smiled fondly to himself, an expression that would have surprised his underlings. Nariya and Eriya were the nearest thing he had to family now. He had rescued them from a mob of hunters on little more than a whim. In part it was because he hated to see innocent creatures suffer, but there was also the fact that they reminded him of his little brother's cat-girl, Merle. Perhaps there was some deep-rooted affinity between the sons of Goau and the catfolk. It was a foolish conceit, he told himself, but one he had been unable to resist.

He picked up the propelling pencil and sketched flowing hair around the head of the guymelef. It would not serve any practical purpose, but somehow it looked right. Finally he wrote "Teiring Mk I" in large neat letters at the top of the design sketch and put it in a folder ready to show his engineers tomorrow.

Ever since the visit from the Asturian merchant, Folken had concentrated on his military designs to the exclusion of his other studies. He told himself that it was a logical use of resources; Zaibach had more than enough engineers and sorcerors, but only Folken had the grasp of the emperor's scientific discoveries in mechanics and optics needed to create guymelefs that could fly and turn invisible. He didn't like to admit to himself that he was afraid to investigate destiny prognostication theory too closely in case his suspicions proved correct. 'The act of observation changes the thing observed.' So said the science book from the Mystic Moon. And yet Emperor Dornkirk's plan revolved around his ability to foresee his ideal future. If the emperor's reasoning were flawed, his plans for Zaibach were doomed and Folken's entire existence would be rendered pointless...No, best not to know. Just trust in Dornkirk and do your job. It was the only way to stay sane.

In a laboratory somewhere deep inside the imperial citadel, Garufo, Sorceror of the First Circle, inspected one of his most secret projects. Two adepts of the Second Circle stood nervously to attention beside an examination table.

'Is the prisoner ready for her next treatment?' Garufo asked.

The first sorceror bowed low.

'Yes, sir.'

'Good. And this time I expect your serum to work.'

The second sorceror, an enthusiastic young fellow from one of the far northern provinces, cleared his throat.

'We have it up to six months now, sir,' he said.

'That's not enough and you know it.' Garufo glared at him, and the young sorceror dropped his gaze to stare respectfully at the floor. 'I need her stable if we're going to achieve tangible results.'

'Yes, sir, of course, sir.'

'Good. Now begin the procedure.'

The first sorceror lifted the syringe up to the light and let a few drops of luminescent amber liquid trickle down the needle. Then he plunged the hypodermic into the prisoner's arm. She strained against the straps holding her down and screamed...

Folken entered the imperial chamber, his calm expression masking his disquiet. No matter how many times he came here, he could never get used to just how big the emperor's life-support machine was. Much larger than was strictly necessary, he suspected; as a man who relied on his own great height to enhance his aura of power, he could see through the tactic without being entirely immune to its effect. 

He cleared his throat. The cough echoed around the vast chamber.

'You asked to see me, Lord Dornkirk.'

The emperor's voice drifted down, amplified by the chamber's acoustics.

'Yes, Folken. I wish you to go to the Asturian capital.'

Folken's heart sank. That was the last place on Gaea he wished to go. _She_ was there; it would be near impossible to avoid her - or her leech of a father.

'To Palas? May I ask why?'

It was impossible to be certain of the emperor's expression at this distance, but he seemed to be smiling humourlessly.

'Rumours have reached my ears that King Aston has been getting...friendly with his neighbours in recent months. I feel he needs to be reminded who his real friends are.'

'With respect, my lord, I am a scientist, not a diplomat.'

'Nonsense, Folken. Why do you think I made you Strategos?'

'My guymelefs-'

'-are important, yes. But so are you. You are a prince, born and bred; it is your destiny to lead. Who better to go where I cannot, and be my representative?'

Folken bowed.

'I am honoured by your faith in me, my lord.'

There was a pause. Emperor Dornkirk leant forward and gazed into the huge telescope-like sights of the destiny prognostication engine, muttering to himself. Folken waited, wondering if he should say more. At last the emperor sat back.

'A show of strength is needed,' he said. 'You will take the new floating fortress.'

'The "Vione"? It is not finished, my lord. The Dragonslayers' quarters are still being excavated and the energist banks will not be ready to go online for at least another month-'

'Then make it your priority. I wish you to visit Asturia before spring. _With_ the Dragonslayers.'

Folken bowed again.

'Yes, my lord.'

The young sorceror bowed low. He was not looking forward to breaking this piece of news to his superior.

'Well?' Garufo asked. 'You said you had an urgent report for me.'

'Y-yes, sir. It's the prisoner.' He swallowed hard. 'She's...she's fallen into a coma, sir.'

'What! You assured me you had the correct dosage!'

'I-I thought we did, sir-'

Garufo raised his hand threateningly. The young sorceror flinched.

'With respect, sir,' his colleague put in, 'the prisoner has proved most strong-willed. I believe she not only resisted our fate-alteration serum but somehow forced herself into unconsciousness. This alone merits further study.'

Garufo lowered his hand and looked thoughtful.

'Very well. But I want her kept alive at all costs. And report to me the moment she regains consciousness.'

'Yes, sir. Immediately, sir.'

Bowing low, the two sorcerors backed out of their master's presence and fled towards their laboratory.


	17. Reunion

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The arrival of the floating fortress set the Asturian capital a-buzz with gossip. Wild rumours spread that Zaibach was invading, and some citizens even packed up and left the city, until King Aston was obliged to sent out criers to announce that this was merely a state visit by their allies. The people remained in a state of tense expectation, however.

They were rewarded later that afternoon when a squadron of blue guymelefs and their red leader flew over the city in perfect V-formation, trailing coloured smoke. Shortly afterwards a carriage arrived at the gates of the palace, accompanied by six armoured youths on horseback. A tall figure got out and was greeted by the king, and the word soon spread that Lord Strategos, Emperor Dornkirk's chief-of-staff, had arrived. 

When Carenza heard the news her blood ran cold. The general, here in Palas? Was this her father's doing? He had been silent on the subject of marriage for so long that she had assumed that negotiations had broken down. What if she were wrong, and Lord Strategos was here to complete them? She prayed that she would not be expected to meet him, and yet she was morbidly curious to find out what kind of man her father had chosen for her. When the summons finally came for the princesses to attend a reception in the general's honour, Carenza was both relieved and terrified at the prospect.

Reluctantly she followed Eries and Millerna into the reception. Even in the press of nobles and dignitaries, the tall figure of the general was unmistakeable. A gaunt, black-cloaked man with a shock of blue-grey hair, he stood with his back to them, talking to the king.

'Ah, and here are my daughters,' said King Aston, gesturing towards them.

The general turned, and Carenza felt the ground fall away from beneath her feet. He was just as Belkin described him, with a grave demeanour and purple tattoos on his face, and yet the clerk had left out one tiny, crucial detail. His name.

'I don't know if you remember Lord Folken, girls,' the king went on, 'you were all very young when he last visited.'

Millerna shook her head, and Eries frowned in thought. Carenza just stared ahead, unable to meet those familiar garnet eyes. Final proof, if any were needed, that this _was_ the former Prince of Fanelia was the small heart-shaped brooch pinning his cloak on his left shoulder - made from the earring she had given him on their last day together - although why it was upside-down she could not imagine.

'I remember both of you,' Folken replied. His voice was deeper than she remembered it. 'And your friend, of course.' He smiled politely at her. 'You haven't changed a bit, Carenza.'

She opened her mouth, and closed it again. What could she say? The polite thing was to return the compliment, but that would be ridiculous in the circumstances. He had changed almost beyond recognition. 

'Th-thank you, my lord. I am flattered that you recall my name after all these years.'

He nodded, looking faintly embarrassed. He kept his maimed arm hidden beneath his cloak, she noticed. Belkin had said he had a metal claw now. A shiver ran up her spine.

'Are you all right, Carenza?' Millerna asked.

'I'm fine. It's just a little hot in here. Please, excuse me.'

She accepted an iced tea from a passing waiter and sat down for a while. As soon as she was sure that neither the king nor Folken were looking in her direction, she left the reception and hurried back to her room. Tears streamed down her face, though whether of joy or grief she could not tell. He was alive, her beloved Folken was alive - and he served Zaibach.

The next day the king and his advisors were taken on a tour of the floating fortress. The princesses were not invited, so Carenza had no excuse to go. She didn't see Folken the next day either, and she began to suspect he was avoiding her. She could understand that he felt awkward seeing her again after all these years, but she was itching to know where he had been and what had happened since his mysterious disappearance.

She managed to find out from one of the cooks that the Strategos and his delegation were returning to the palace for further negotiations and would be staying overnight before departing for Zaibach the next day. After that it was a simple matter to persuade a chambermaid to tell her which rooms had been assigned to Folken. When she reconnoitred the corridor, however, she found that two of the young guymelef pilots were standing guard outside their commander's apartments. She cursed under her breath and walked past, pretending to be on an errand elsewhere in the guest wing. 

Fate was on her side, however. As she came down the stairs from the guest apartments she spotted Folken bowing to one of the councillors, who then walked away, leaving the Strategos alone in the corridor. Carenza hurried up to him before they could be interrupted.

'Folken? Please, may we talk in private?'

He looked startled and made to move past her, but she held him with her eyes.

'Please?'

He nodded.

'Where do you suggest?'

She looked around, and noticed that the door to the music room was ajar. It had seldom been used since Marlene went to Freid, and there was certainly no sound coming from the open door, so she beckoned him over.

'In here.'

He followed her inside, and took up a position by the empty fireplace.

For several long moments neither of them spoke. At last Carenza could bear it no longer.

'Where have you been all these years? I thought you were dead.' The words came out louder and more angrily than she had intended.

'The Folken you knew _is_ dead,' he said softly. 'He was killed by the dragon. I am Folken, Strategos of Zaibach.'

'Then why do you still wear the heart I gave you that day?'

'I had forgotten it was yours,' he said carelessly.

'Bullshit! You still care about me, otherwise you wouldn't be avoiding me, and I-I still love you-'

His eyes widened, and he went pale.

'Did your father put you up to this?'

'What?' Carenza stared at him, totally flummoxed by the change of tack.

'I told him that I had no interest in his petty ambitions for his family. I will not marry you.'

'_You_ said no?'

He inclined his head.

'But my father told me...'

'If he gave any indication that I was interested, he was deceiving you, and perhaps himself.'

Carenza sank into a chair.

'Why?' she whispered. She looked up at him. 'We loved each other once, didn't we?'

Folken hesitated, then seemed to come to a decision. He reached up with his left hand and unfastened the heart brooch, letting his cloak fall to the floor. 

'Can you love me - like this?' 

Carenza gasped; she had been expecting a simple hook, not an entire arm made of cable and polished steel plate, a hand tipped with panther-like claws.

'This is Emperor Dornkirk's gift to me,' he said bitterly.

'I-I knew you'd lost your arm to the dragon,' she said, 'but I had not expected such a...an impressive replacement.'

'You knew? How?'

She told him about her trip to Fanelia and her discovery in the forest. He shook his head wonderingly.

'I'm so sorry...I should have written to you, or something...I was just so ashamed of what I had done, what I had become...'

'It doesn't matter, you're here now.' She stood up and gestured to his arm. 'May I...touch it?'

He nodded and lifted it up, palm towards the floor. She stepped closer, ran her fingers over the chill metallic surface of his forearm.

'Can you feel anything with it?'

'Not there. I can feel where the arm is because the connectors pull on my shoulder muscles. And the palm and inner surface of the fingers have simple touch sensors so that I can use it to handle equipment without having to watch my hand constantly.'

He turned his hand over, and she could see that there were oval patches of a fine metallic fabric, one on each fingertip and several on the palm. She traced a finger around the cool surface of his palm, and was surprised to hear him laugh softly.

'Stop it, it tickles!' He closed his hand gently and lowered the arm to his side.

'Why claws?' she mused.

'I suppose Emperor Dornkirk thought they would be useful.'

Carenza shook her head. 

'It was to control you.'

Folken frowned.

'Control? How? By giving me the ability to rip out a man's throat in one blow?'

She ignored the casual reference, hoping that it was no more than theory.

'To make you feel less human. Vulnerable and alienated, you were easier to manipulate.'

'Oh yes, Dornkirk is good at that,' he said. 'He always thinks he knows what's best for other people.'

'Folken, I don't care what they've done to you. You're back now. And I still love you.'

She closed the remaining distance between them, slipped her arms around his waist and gazed up into those intense, garnet-coloured eyes. Folken opened his mouth to protest, but she stretched up on tiptoe and kissed him before he could say anything. For a moment his mouth was dry and unyielding against hers, then he wrapped his good arm about her shoulders and pulled her close, his tongue tracing a pattern of fire across her lips.

It seemed like only a few minutes later that the door opened. The young guymelef pilot stared at them for a second before stammering his apologies. Carenza disengaged herself from Folken's embrace, blushing scarlet.

'What is it, Migel?' Folken asked calmly.

'Er, it's time for dinner, Lord Folken. We've been looking for you everywhere...'

Folken nodded.

'I'll be there in a moment.' 

Migel bowed and retreated from the music room, tactfully closing the door behind him. Carenza looked around. The afternoon had turned to evening whilst they had stood there, making up for the lost kisses of ten lonely years.

'Well, that will set the cat amongst the pigeons.' Folken smiled ruefully. 'At least it might put a stop to certain other rumours...'

'What rumours?'

'Nothing - just silly schoolboyish finger-pointing. Forget I mentioned it.'

She smiled up at him shyly.

'What do we do now?'

He retrieved his cloak from the floor and settled it around his shoulders.

'I suppose you're expecting me to go to your father and tell him I've changed my mind.'

Carenza's heart leapt at the thought.

'Have you?'

'I don't know. This is all very sudden. I have to leave for Zaibach tomorrow; my duties to the emperor leave me little time for a personal life...'

'Then he must owe you some leave by now,' she pointed out.

'It's not that simple,' he sighed. 'Emperor Dornkirk's plans are nearing fruition. A few more weeks, maybe months...I'd like to wait until it's over before making any plans of my own.'

She forced a smile.

'That's all right. I've waited ten, no, twelve years for you - what's a few more months?'


	18. In Pursuit of Dragons

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Folken paced his chamber on the _Vione_, unable to sleep. Tomorrow was Van's fifteenth birthday, the day he would undertake his Rite of Dragonslaying. Folken wasn't sure what he feared the most: that Van would fail and perhaps die, or that he would succeed and gain his crown through violence and cruelty. It pained him to think of the gentle little boy, who had protested at the idea of killing dragons, being sent out to slaughter one himself. 

It was no great comfort therefore when, a couple of days later, a Zaibach spy reported that Fanelia was celebrating the return of their young prince and his forthcoming coronation. Almost immediately afterwards, Folken was summoned to the communication chamber for an audience with Lord Dornkirk.

'I am gravely concerned.' The old man's voice boomed out, his image distorted by the communication globe. 'There is a shadow over our future. I see a dragon, flying across the night sky...'

'A flying dragon? Land dragons can glide a little, but-'

The emperor laughed hollowly. 'Not a flesh-and-blood dragon, a machine. A white dragon with ruby eyes.'

'Escaflowne...' Folken murmured.

'You know of it?'

'My...former...homeland possesses an ancient Ispano guymelef that can transform into a dragon and fly. I spent hours studying it when I was a boy.'

'Yes, yes, the ancient white dragon,' the emperor cried, 'You must capture it, Lord Folken. Capture it at all costs, lest our ideal future be lost to us.'

Folken ordered the _Vione_ to approach Fanelia but remain behind the western mountains where it could not be seen.

'Van, my brother, forgive me,' he murmured to the chill dawn air. 'I cannot let anyone get in the way of our plans, not even you.'

If all went well, the Dragonslayers in their Alceides would quickly subdue the Fanelian forces' ancient melefs. With a drag-energist from the Vione's power reserves, Folken could awaken Escaflowne and fly it back to the _Vione_. It should have been his, after all; it already was, in a way.

After their father had died it had been Folken's duty to remove the old drag-energist and put the guymelef back to sleep. He had kept the crystal, however, and in the middle of the night he sneaked back to the shrine, re-awakened Escaflowne and climbed into its cockpit. The overpowering smell of engine oil made him feel queasy at first, so he just sat there, imagining what it would be like to pilot such an powerful machine. After a while he had slipped his hands gingerly into the main controls and raised the guymelef's right arm with a whirr of hydraulics. The noise was alarmingly loud on the night air, and he hadn't dared to do any more for fear of waking half the city. Afterwards he had taken the energist out and smashed it, as he should have done in the first place. Even so, the blood-bond between them had been made, and for that short time Escaflowne had been his.

He stood impassively on the bridge of the _Vione_, waiting for Dilandau to report. The leader of the Dragonslayers was fearless, and his ability to inspire loyalty in his troops had earned him Folken's grudging respect, but the boy lacked self-restraint. Folken didn't know much about him except that he was one of Garufo's pet projects. He knew that Dilandau had undergone some kind of fate alteration therapy; as his commanding officer Folken had had to be informed of this much, since there was apparently a danger of side-effects. Garufo had insisted that Dilandau's effectiveness as a Dragonslayer more than outweighed the risk of a relapse, and Folken had reluctantly agreed to take him on. Now, listening to the boy's maniacal ranting over his comlink and watching the capital of Fanelia burning, he was beginning to regret it.

'That's enough, Dilandau!' he said at last. 'I said I wanted them subdued, not destroyed. Have you seen the white guymelef yet?'

'No, Lord Folken,' the boy sneered.

'Go to the shrine and stop Van from taking it. As soon as you have it, I will come down and pilot it myself.'

'Why you? I'm sure one of my Dragonslayers can manage that heap of old junk.'

Folken sighed. He knew that Dilandau's respect for him as the designer of the Alceides barely outweighed his contempt for Folken's lack of piloting experience. Unfortunately Folken's mechanical arm was not responsive enough for combat manoeuvres, which was why he was dependent upon the Dragonslayers' capturing Escaflowne for him.

'I've told you before, Dilandau, it's an heirloom of my family, protected by Ispano technology. Don't touch it, do you understand?'

'All right, all right! Wait, I see it! The white guymelef!'

'Where?'

'It's out in the open, walking around...'

Folken cursed under his breath. Damn you, Van, why did you have to beat me to it?

'You can still capture it,' he told Dilandau. 'Just don't let it transform and fly away.'

'Don't worry, Lord Folken.' There was the barest note of insolence in the way he pronounced his commander's name. 'My Dragonslayers have him surrounded and they're decloaking as we sp- what the fuck-?'

'Dilandau, what is it?'

He scarcely needed to ask. From his vantage point he watched in disbelief as a beam of white light stabbed upwards from the ruined city. A moment later it was gone, leaving a purplish afterimage that came and went as he blinked. The comlink was strangely silent.

'Dilandau! Dilandau, what happened?'

'It-it's gone...'

'Gone? Which way did it go?'

'I dunno,' Dilandau said slowly. 'It floated up into the light and just...disappeared.'

Folken shook his head. Some kind of Ispano portal, perhaps? He wouldn't put anything past a people who preferred to lurk between dimensions instead of living on Gaea. If only he knew more about their technology...but they were an elusive folk, and not friendly to Zaibach.

'Fall back,' he commanded. 'There is nothing more we can do here. I want full-scale scouting patrols in all directions. Find that guymelef.'

'Yes, Lord Folken.'

Fortune was on their side. Escaflowne was soon traced to a small fort on the Asturian border, and though Van and his new friends tried to escape in a leviship the Dragonslayers succeeded in flushing the young king out and capturing both him and the guymelef.

Folken made his way down to the hangar with Dilandau dogging his footsteps. The boy seemed obsessed with the pilot of the Escaflowne, perhaps because he had defeated Dilandau's Dragonslayers twice before they managed to capture him - and Dilandau did not like losing.

'Why don't we just drag the samurai out of there and destroy the thing?' Dilandau asked as they climbed the metal steps to a platform level with the cockpit.

'I cannot allow that.'

'Why not?'

'Not until we fully understand why it is a threat to our future. Do you understand?'

Folken placed his good hand against the faceted front of the energist cell. It began to glow in response to his touch, and the cockpit doors hissed open. Van slumped forward and tumbled from his seat onto the platform, where he lay moaning faintly. Folken stared at his brother impassively, unwilling to show any sign of weakness in front of Dilandau.

The Dragonslayer gaped.

'Him? It's him...'

'Yes. The new king of Fanelia.'

Folken sat at his desk, whistling softly. He had made a preliminary sketch of Escaflowne's controls and was looking forward to the opportunity for a test flight as soon as they got back to Zaibach. Of course he would need a proper pilot if Escaflowne were to be deployed in battle - which meant convincing Van to join him.

It wouldn't be easy. Folken had had little choice but to join Zaibach after his maiming by the dragon and the loss of his kingdom, but Van was both whole and the crowned king of Fanelia. Not that he had much of a kingdom left after Dilandau's attack, Folken thought bitterly. I should have been more explicit in my instructions, should have turned down Garufo's offer in the first place...but it was too late for regrets.

> 'All causes shall give way: I am in blood   
Stepp'd in so far that, should I wade no more,   
Returning were as tedious as go o'er.'

Emperor Dornkirk had made the study of Shakespeare's plays compulsory in Zaibach schools. He liked to point out that the tragedies, especially Macbeth, were an entertaining introduction to elementary destiny theory.

Folken turned back to the sketch and resumed his whistling.

'Who are you? How do you know that Fanelian song?'

Folken turned to look over his shoulder. His brother was sitting up on the bed, apparently none the worse for his fall. He frowned at Folken, then seeing his sword on a nearby table, dashed across the room and drew it. He held it between them, ready to attack.

'Take me to my guymelef.' 

Play it cool, Folken told himself. Don't alarm him. After all, he probably thinks you're long dead.

'Do you think a soldier of Zaibach would give in to such a bluff?' He saw Van's resolve waver. 'You can't escape this floating fortress...'

'If I have to be your puppet to survive-'

To Folken's alarm, Van placed his sword against his own throat, glaring at him defiantly. Faster than the eye could see, Folken drew his own katana, knocked the sword from his brother's trembling hand and sheathed it in one easy movement.

'You shouldn't take your life lightly.'

Enough of these games. He had to convince Van of who he was, and he could think of only one foolproof way. He shrugged out of his cloak and tunic and spread his wings.

Van gasped.

'B-brother...?'

'It's been a while, Van...ten years, isn't it?' He turned away to pick up the cloak and pinned it in place.

'I never believed my brother ran away from his rite of succession,' Van said sadly. 'He fought a dragon and was killed. He never turned his back on his enemy, he fought until the end...but I was wrong.' He sounded angry now. 'Why are you with Zaibach? And why did you burn Fanelia?'

Folken heard his footsteps approaching. He laughed softly. First Carenza, now Van...how many times was he going to have to go through this? 

'Why are you laughing?' Van shouted. 'Don't laugh!' 

He reached up and seized Folken's shoulder.

Folken sighed. Damn it, he had enough to think about already, keeping a rein on Dilandau's temper whilst they searched for the unknown element, the power source Lord Dornkirk had seen. He didn't have time for this...he turned and embraced the startled boy, grasping Van's left shoulder with his clawed right hand.

'Van, my brother, come with me and serve Dornkirk, emperor of all Zaibach,' he murmured in Van's ear. 'Then we will set the future back on course.'

The needle snicked out of his fingertip and into Van's neck, the sedative taking effect so quickly that Van didn't even have time to cry out.

He left Van sleeping and returned to the bridge of the _Vione_. Suddenly a pain spread through his chest, and he doubled over in agony. The deck trembled. Nausea swept over him, and with it the phantom scent of engine oil...Escaflowne?

'What was that?' he said when he was able to breathe again.

'An explosion in the hangar, sir.'

There was a terrible screech of metal against rock and the _Vione_ shuddered violently.

'Enemy attack from directly above us!'

'What?' Folken seized the communicator. 'Dilandau, scramble your pilots, immediately! Dilandau?'

There was no reply. Cursing, Folken staggered towards the stairs leading down to the hangar.

Folken made his way along the upper walkway to the end bay where Escaflowne had been parked. The enormous white guymelef was unharmed, though its energist cell glowed faintly. In the shadows below he could just make out a red-armoured figure, hunched over in pain.

'The stupid little bastard! I told him not to touch it.'

He watched for a few minutes, wondering if he should go and help Dilandau. Not that the boy would thank him for it. He was about to return to the bridge when his brother entered the hangar on the lower level. Dilandau stirred in the shadows, a hand to his sword hilt. Folken sighed. Capturing his brother was one thing. Letting him get cut down by an enraged Dilandau was quite another.

'Van!'

Van looked up.

'Brother!'

Folken raised Van's sword crossways so that it would clear the railing, and threw it down to him. Then he turned and walked away. Maybe that one small gesture wouldn't be enough to earn Van's trust, but he had to try.

'You let the dragon get away?'

The fuzzy image of Emperor Dornkirk frowned. Folken inclined his head apologetically.

'He won't get far, my lord. One boy and a ragtag band of border guards...'

'They are still a danger, I can see it-'

'Yes, my lord. Never fear, I will bring him to you. He just needs time to think it over. Blood is thicker than water, or so they say.'

'And Draconian blood is stronger than either, eh, Folken?'

'Indeed my lord.' He hastened to change the subject; in emphasising Van's loyalty to himself, he risked the emperor suspecting that Folken might put his brother before the empire. 'I am heading for Palas; if we can get there before the dragon, I'm sure this situation can be turned to our advantage.'

* * * * * * * * * * *

Author's note: Yeah, I know, this chapter is largely a transcript-cum-rewrite of scenes from several early episodes, but I wanted to show events from Folken's point of view, to help clarify his motivation. I also wanted to explore the link between Folken and Escaflowne, which is only hinted at in the show.


	19. Promises

AbiWord Document

**Apology to younger readers**: When I started writing this story I wasn't sure how it would all work out, so I've had to change the rating as I went along. The following chapter is definitely R-rated - not exactly a lemon but more explicit than a lime. You have been warned!

* * * * * * * * * * *

'Folken!' Carenza raced across the courtyard towards the familiar tall figure. 'I wasn't expecting you back in Palas so soon.'

He beckoned her into the shadows of a colonnaded walk.

'I'm here on business, I'm afraid,' he said. 'Though the thought of seeing you again made the journey seem far too slow.'

She smiled and hugged him, slipping her arms under the heavy silk-lined cloak and around his waist. He bent his head down to kiss her.

'How are things going?' she asked after a while. 'With your plans, I mean?'

'Something has come up. I can't tell you all the details, but...Van is king of Fanelia now, and he's threatening the empire.'

'Van? Your little brother Van?'

Folken nodded.

'I can't believe it. He was such a sweet little boy - and Fanelia is too small to threaten the mighty Zaibach Empire, surely?'

'I don't understand it myself, but Emperor Dornkirk assures me it is true.'

She shook her head slowly.

'What are you going to do?'

'Wait for him here. He took refuge in a fort commanded by Allen Schezar-'

'Allen's mixed up in this?' She might have known. The blond knight seemed drawn to trouble like a moth to a flame.

'Van was brought up to be king. His next logical move is to try and raise support from neighbouring monarchs, and since he is already in Asturia that suggests they will come here. I must impress upon King Aston that it would be unwise for him to help them.'

'But...he's your brother-'

'I do not want to harm him. I want us all to be together, as allies. Partners.'

'And if he won't...?'

Folken looked down at her sadly.

'It could mean war. A war to end all wars.'

'No...' She hugged him fiercely and kissed him as though she would never let go. After a moment he responded with equal passion. She wondered if he would ever be able to give himself freely, without that initial hesitation.

'Will I see you again before you leave?'

'I cannot say. I have much to discuss with the king and his advisors, and I do not know what will happen once we find out where Van is hiding.'

He kissed her chastely on the forehead and released her.

'Now I really must go. Until next time.'

He turned and walked away, his long black cloak trailing in the dust.

'Until next time, my love,' she whispered.

Carenza fretted all evening, going over and over what Folken had told her. If war came she might lose him for good...Not, she could not bear to think of such a thing. She was not going to lose him again.

Perhaps she could offer to go with him. That was what he said he wanted, for the three of them to be together. Surely she would be safer with him in Zaibach than in Palas? She made up her mind to go to him this very night, before it was too late. After dismissing her maid for the night, she wrapped herself in a heavy silk robe and took the lamp from her bedside table.

There were two of the young Dragonslayers on guard outside Folken's room, just as before. To her relief one of them was the dark-haired boy who had found them together in the music room. He at least might recognise her and let her pass.

'Migel, isn't it?'

He bowed stiffly. She put on her most winsome smile.

'May I go in?'

'It's late, miss. The Strategos has retired for the night.'

'It's really urgent that I speak with him,' she said, letting the robe fall open a little to reveal the lace-trimmed neckline of her nightgown.

The boy looked her up and down and his adam's-apple bobbed nervously.

'I'll j-just go and see if he's awake, m-miss.'

'Thank you,' she murmured.

A few moments later he came back out.

'Lord Folken will see you now.'

Carenza curtsied to him and went in, pretending not to notice the significant glances the two Dragonslayers exchanged. Let them think what they liked. It sounded like they would gossip about their commander's love-life whatever he did; at least now they would have something halfway truthful to go on.

Folken was reclining on a chaise longue in a black silk kimono, reading a sheaf of official-looking documents. He seemed to have been taking a bath; his bare feet were pink and slightly wrinkled from the soaking, and his hair drooped in damp silvery spikes. It made him look much more like the young prince she had once known.

'Carenza, my love, what are you doing here at this time of night? Not that I object,' he added quickly, putting the papers down on a table.

'I want to go with you.'

He cocked his head on one side.

'Go where?'

'Back to Zaibach. If war is coming, I want to be with you. I won't lose you again.'

He swung his feet to the floor and gestured for her to join him on the chaise. She sat down beside him and he put his good arm around her waist.

'I'm not sure that's a good idea, beloved. I'll be out on the _Vione_ most of the time. At least here in Palas you have friends and family around you-'

She buried her head in his shoulder and choked back tears. She had been afraid he would take this tack.

'Hey, don't cry!' He stroked her hair and ran a hand down to her cheek, pulling her chin gently up to look into her eyes. 'It may not come to war. King Aston is a wise man; he knows better than to defy the Zaibach Empire.'

'B-but-'

He silenced her with a long kiss.

'Come on,' he said. 'It's getting late. Time we were both in bed.'

A sudden memory forced its way into Carenza's thoughts. Dared she?

'You remember last time you left me?' she said, her heart pounding in her chest.

'How could I forget it?'

'You promised me you would come back.'

'And I did, didn't I?' He kissed the tip of her nose.

'I-I made you a promise, too. I'd like to keep it.' She smiled coyly and pressed against him.

His eyes widened at the memory.

'Don't you want to wait until we're married?'

'I've waited long enough. Next time you might not-'

'I don't know...' He shook his head, frowning.

'Please, Folken, just one night? You cannot deny me that.'

He sighed and took her in his arms.

It had started so well. They had kissed for a long time, unsure of how quickly to progress. After a while he had stood and lifted her ever so gently in his arms and carried her through to the bedroom. She had coyly looked away as he slipped out of the kimono and between the sheets.

Now it all seemed to be going wrong. The more Folken tried to keep his cybernetic arm from kept getting in the way, the more intrusive it became. He tried lying on his right side, but that proved uncomfortable, and now they found he couldn't lie on his good left side for fear of accidentally clawing her with his free hand. At last he rolled away and buried his face in the pillow.

'I'm sorry,' he mumbled. 'This just isn't going to work...'

'It's all right.' She squeezed his left shoulder and felt the tension in the muscles there. 'Here, roll over onto your stomach and I'll give you a back rub.'

Slowly he did so, burying his right forearm under the pillow for safety, and she knelt beside him, kneading the knotted flesh. His skin was smooth and pale in the lamplight, and there was no sign of where his wings might be.

'Mmm, that's good. A little more to the right, please?'

'Are you sure?' She pressed tentatively at his right shoulderblade, where the cables of his cybernetic arm seemed to burrow into the flesh.

'Yes, just there - ah!'

She pulled her hand back as if it had been burnt.

'I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you.'

'It didn't hurt, exactly. I'm just a bit sensitive there.'

'Well I'm going to kiss it better anyway.'

She bent down and planted tiny kisses all around the base of his prosthesis. His skin was warm and slightly salty, with a faint hint of sandalwood perfume. From there she made her way down his ribcage, around the small of his back and up the spine, kissing the tip of each vertebra where it mounded through his skin, all the way up to the nape of his neck. She brushed the strands of blue-grey hair aside, breathing in the sharp herbal scent of his shampoo, and kissed the side of his neck. He was breathing more heavily now.

'Roll over,' she murmured.

He did so, smiling lazily. He raised his head to kiss her, but she placed a finger on his lips and gently pushed him back down.

'Not yet.'

As slowly and deliberately as before, she made her way down his smooth chest, across his stomach and circled his navel. She was rewarded by a brushing against her cheek. Pretending not to have noticed, she made her way outwards across his belly, tracing the line of his pelvic bone with more kisses, paused tantalisingly, then swept her tongue in a single stroke all the way back up to his throat.

'Ready now?'

'Oh yes!'

Carenza raised herself on her forearms and knelt astride him. Folken's eyes widened, and she grinned wickedly at him. She took his right wrist in her left hand and pinned it to the pillow, then pulled another pillow over his right shoulder to cushion herself from injury. When she was happy with the arrangement she raised her hips and lowered herself onto him. He grunted softly and bit his lower lip. She was surprised how easy it was; maybe so-called common knowledge about the pain of deflowering was exaggerated. Luckily Folken was too distracted by his own pleasure to notice. She raised herself again, teasingly slowly, then thrust down hard. Folken gasped and opened his eyes to look up at her. His pupils were huge and dark, like a cat's when it sights prey. She bent down to kiss him, thrust again, and he reached round with his good hand to pull her closer, arching against her until with a yelp of ecstasy he clutched her to him convulsively. 

After a few moments he relaxed and let her go. She lay against his left shoulder, panting. Sweat pooled in the narrow space between their bodies.

'I hope I didn't disappoint you,' he said at last. 'I...don't exactly have a lot of experience. My work always took up so much of my time, I never-'

'Me neither.'

He pushed her gently away to look into her eyes.

'You're telling me you never did - that - before?'

She blushed.

'Dryden has a very...comprehensive library...' She started to giggle; the expression of shock on his face was so comical. 'It's very tasteful stuff, nothing sleazy. One of the books even had its...instructions in the form of love poems.'

'I see,' he said faintly. 'It sounds like I had better raid your brother's library myself, if I am to please you.'

She smiled. 'Oh, you please me well enough.'

'But you did not...did you?'

'Well, no, but it was our first time together. Girls can get performance anxiety as well, you know.'

It was his turn to grin wickedly.

'If you were nervous this time, I can't wait to see you when you're relaxed.'

'Folken dearest?'

'Mmm?'

'Can I ask you something personal?'

'What?'

'Why did you never tell me you were a Draconian?'

He tensed in her arms. Carenza cursed herself. Why could she never leave things alone? She always had to open her mouth and put her foot in it.

After a long pause he relaxed a little.

'I wanted to tell you, but our mother always impressed upon us the importance of hiding our wings. She told us people wouldn't understand why we were different, that they might be jealous or scared. So I tried not to think about them. I couldn't tell you in a letter, and I didn't want to tell you that day before I left, in case you...stopped loving me...'

'Oh my poor love,' she murmured. She kissed his chest, and felt him reach down to kiss the top of her head.

'W-would you like to see them now?' he asked after a while.

She craned her neck to look up at him.

'Only if you want to show me.'

'I want to.'

He got out of bed, and stood naked before her, his good hand cupped selfconsciously at his groin. Lamplight gilded his steel arm and spread like honey over his taut muscular form. She had to resist the urge to pull him back to bed and ravish him all over again.

Folken grimaced with effort, then snow-white wings burst from his shoulders, spreading from wall to wall. White feathers drifted to the floor. Carenza's breath caught in her throat. He was so beautiful...She rose and embraced him.

'My angel...' she whispered.

She slipped away in the pearly light of dawn, dodging servants and scurrying up wide empty staircases with the silk robe clutched tightly around her. She was already planning how she might be able to stow away on the _Vione_.


	20. Secrets and Lies

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'Allen's here! I just saw the Crusade coming in to land!'

Millerna rushed in from the balcony in a cloud of jasmine perfume. Carenza bit her lip and stared at her book. That meant Van would be here soon, and the confrontation between the brothers could not long be delayed.

Eries sighed and folded her arms.

'I suppose you're going to rush down to the harbour to meet him?'

'Well of course. He's an old friend of the family - why shouldn't I be pleased to see him?'

'It is hardly decorous for a princess of Asturia to run around after a mere knight. I'm sure Allen will get here soon enough.'

'Well I'm going to see him. At least someone in this place ought to make him feel welcome.'

Eries sighed again.

'Well, since you're so set on going, perhaps you could take him a message?'

Millerna folded her arms in imitation of her sister and cocked her head on one side.

'Very well.'

'Tell Allen that our father wishes to see him immediately. There is much they need to discuss.'

Millerna nodded curtly and left.

'I really don't know what to do with her,' Eries said, sitting down opposite Carenza. 'I'm certain that Allen only pays attention to her because she reminds him so much of Marlene.'

'They are very much alike,' Carenza conceded.

'Sometimes I think he loves almost any woman better than me. I understand even you got to kiss him once.'

'It was only a trick to fool the guards, so that I could give him your letter. It meant nothing to me, or to Allen, I swear.'

'And that's supposed to make me feel better? Well, you have a lover of your own, now, I hear.'

Carenza's jaw dropped.

'How did you...it was only last night-'

'Ah, so you _have_ slept with him! What a dark horse you are, Carenza Fassa - so much like your father. I'd heard he was in bed with Zaibach; now so are you.'

Carenza paled.

'How dare you-!'

'I dare because I have the good of my country at heart. Now, if you will excuse me, I need to speak to my father.'

Carenza stared after the retreating princess. How many of the servants were in Eries' pocket, she wondered. The elder princess had schemed even when she was heir to the throne; now she plotted to become the power behind it. 

About half an hour later Millerna returned, not with Allen but with a familiar dark-haired youth and two others Carenza did not recognise.

'Carenza, you went to Fanelia, didn't you? I expect you remember Prince Van - sorry, King Van as he is now.'

Carenza smiled at Van and curtsied. He had grown, of course, but he still had the round puppy-dog eyes and shock of dark hair that she remembered. Was this skinny boy really the terror of the mighty Zaibach Empire? She was beginning to wonder if Emperor Dornkirk was quite sane.

'Your highness.'

'Hmph,' muttered Van, and wandered away.

Carenza frowned. This was not the sweet-natured child she remembered. Growing up without a mother's guidance had done nothing for his manners, that was for sure.

'And this is Lord Van's companion, Hitomi,' said Millerna, introducing a shy-looking girl with wide green eyes and brown hair cut boyishly short.

'I told you, she's with Allen!' cried the third member of the party.

'Really, I'm not _with_ anyone,' said Hitomi, blushing.

'Merle, is that you? Goodness how you've grown!'

The cat-girl glared at Carenza. 'Who're _you_?'

'You probably don't remember me - you were very young when I came to Fanelia.'

'Nope,' she said, and shrugged.

'You must all be tired after your flight,' said Millerna. 'Carenza, why don't you take Hitomi upstairs? She can have a bath and change out of those clothes into something less...conspicuous.' She gave Carenza a meaningful look. 

Carenza nodded back. No doubt the princess was planning to hide Allen and his friends from Folken for as long as she could. She thanked her stars that her relationship with Folken was not yet the gossip of the whole palace, even if Eries' spies had already reported on it. If she could find out anything useful in the meantime, well, all the better.

'Please, won't you come this way, Miss Hitomi?'

Once in Millerna's suite, Carenza rang for servants to fill a bath and then took Hitomi through to the princess's dressing room. There was a whole rack of dresses that Millerna had bought just before she discovered Ezgardian fashions.

'How about this one?' she asked, holding up a white dress with a pink bodice and a wide lace collar. There was no reply.

She turned round to find that Hitomi had sunk cross-legged to the floor and now sat, shoulders tensed, on the verge of crying.

'Why, whatever is the matter?'

Hitomi looked up, her eyes full of tears.

'I want to go home,' she whispered. 'I miss my family and I'm just so sick of all this fighting!'

Carenza put her arms around the girl and let her cry her homesickness away.

'Where do you come from, anyway?' she asked once the sobbing subsided.

She listened in amazement as Hitomi told her how Van had appeared from nowhere, followed by a dragon, and how he had killed the dragon, whereupon a pillar of light had brought her to Fanelia - though from where, she would not say. She described how Zaibach guymelefs had used some kind of invisibility cloak to launch a sneak attack on Fanelia, resulting in the city's destruction.

'Thousands left homeless,' Hitomi whispered, her voice hoarse with crying.

'But why would they do such a thing?' Carenza asked.

'I don't know. I think they want Escaflowne.'

'The Fanelian guymelef?'

Hitomi nodded.

'When Zaibach attacked, some of the cloaked guymelefs surrounded Van and me, but another pillar of light took us to Asturia, which was where we met Allen. But the Zaibach soldiers found us and they destroyed the fort. We escaped in Allen's ship, though only because Van used Escaflowne to lure them away. He was captured, and we had to rescue him.'

'Van was captured by Zaibach?' Carenza frowned. Folken had not said anything about this.

'Oh yes. They took him to a huge floating ship. Van's brother was there - he works for Zaibach, I don't know why. Van told me his brother drugged him with a needle hidden in that metal hand of his, to try and make him stay.'

Carenza somehow managed to smile sympathetically despite the horror clutching her guts. A memory came to her, of icy steel claws brushing against her naked flank as Folken tried to find a comfortable position. At the time she was only worried that he might scratch her. Now she realised it could have been a lot worse...

'How dreadful,' she said mechanically. 'Well, why don't you have a nice relaxing bath and I'll come back in, what, half an hour?'

Hitomi nodded and allowed herself to be guided to the bathroom. Carenza kept up the act of the helpful lady-in-waiting, but inside she was seething. She couldn't wait to hear Folken's side of the story.

She found him just leaving the throne room, and fell in beside him.

'You look pleased with yourself,' she commented once they were out of earshot of the guards.

'Things are developing nicely. Allen Schezar is here and has asked the king to help Van. Of course King Aston has refused. And I've persuaded Allen to bring Van to me, so we can talk things over.'

'I think _we_ need to talk things over.' They turned the corner into the same colonnaded walk where they had kissed, was it only yesterday?

'So what did you want to talk about?' he asked, slipping an arm around her shoulder.

She shrugged him off, and he raised an elegant eyebrow in consternation.

'What's the matter, beloved?'

'When were you going to tell me you had already tried to take your own brother prisoner?' she burst out, unable to contain her anger any longer. 

'How-?'

She bit her lip; revealing her source would mean betraying Van's presence in the capital. But it seemed the only way to get at the truth.

'Van is here, in Palas. Hitomi told me all about it.'

'Hitomi?' He looked baffled.

'Some girl whom Van met when he was off killing his dragon. At first I thought she was making it up, except that she knew about your metal hand.'

Folken nodded thoughtfully.

'You're not denying it then?' she asked.

'Denying what?'

'That you kidnapped and drugged your own brother.'

Folken sighed.

'Have you met Van lately?' When she nodded, he went on, 'Then you'll know he's not the sweet trusting little boy you once knew. But he is still my brother. I just want him to join me, to serve Zaibach. Perhaps my methods were a little harsh...'

'Hitomi says Van told her you have needles in those mechanical fingers of yours, filled with sleeping potions and who knows what else.'

He inclined his head in acknowledgement. 

'And would you use them on me, if I did not do as you wished? Well?'

He simply looked at her, his eyes expressionless. Her anger faded, to be replaced by a cold emptiness. He did not really love her; he was just using her as a pawn in the emperor's twisted schemes. She felt strangely calm now, as if this was what she had expected to happen all along. 

'I can't believe I ever trusted you.' She pulled the Heart of Fanel from her finger, and dropped it at his feet. 'Here, take it back. It's as much heart as you'll ever have. I never want to see you again.'

Turning on her heel she headed back towards the east wing to see if Hitomi had finished her bath.

Folken stooped to pick up the ring in his left hand and looked at it for a moment, then flung it away as hard as he could. It ricocheted off a pillar and flew sparkling across the courtyard to land with a splash in the fountain. He sank onto a marble bench, cursing himself with every profanity he knew. He could have denied it, could have reassured her, told her what she wanted to hear. But he believed that love was based on trust and truth - and he could not truthfully say that he would not use every means at his disposal to ensure the perfect future he wanted for them both. 


	21. Marching Orders

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On the way back to the princesses' apartments she bumped into Allen - quite literally. He was striding along the hallway with a look of grim determination on his face.

'Oh, excuse me, miss!' he said distractedly, then exclaimed,'Why, Miss Fassa! I am sorry, I didn't recognise you for a moment.' He made an elegant bow. 'You're looking rather pale, are you all right?'

'Just a little tired,' she lied. 'Millerna has me running errands all over the palace.'

'Millerna!' he exclaimed, slapping his forehead. 'Oh no, I said I'd escort her to the bazaar. Please, Miss Fassa, would you take her an apology from me?'

'Of course.'

Allen pulled a small notebook and a stub of pencil out of his uniform pocket, scribbled something on a page and ripped it out. She politely folded the note in half without looking at it. He smiled sheepishly.

'The princesses and I seem to be making a habit of using you as our go-between. Now, if you will excuse me, I am needed urgently elsewhere.'

He snapped another, more formal bow and strode off down the hallway. Carenza watched him go, then slowly made her way up the wide staircase. After a brief struggle with her conscience she unfolded the note and read it.

Your Highness,

Please accept my heartfelt apologies, but I am called away on urgent business. I am afraid you will have to go to the bazaar without me.

Your humble servant,

Allen C. Schezar VIII

It was a perfectly innocent note, but its very courtesy sent a shiver up Carenza's spine. She remembered how he had been with Marlene, unable to refuse her even though she was engaged to another man - and here he was with Millerna doing exactly the same thing. And this time it was Carenza's own brother who was going to get hurt. She was sorely tempted to rip the note up and pass the message on by mouth, which would be much less intimate than a letter, but Millerna would eventually find out. And if Carenza were to have any chance of nipping this relationship in the bud, she had to earn the princess's trust. Helping Millerna's guests to avoid Folken would make a good start.

' "Go to the bazaar without me" ? Why do men always go back on their promises? Well, I'm not going to wait for him.' Millerna turned to Hitomi. 'Are you coming?''

'O-Okay.'

Van rolled his eyes at the prospect of traipsing round the bazaar with a bunch of women. Whilst Millerna decided which cloak to wear, Carenza drew him aside.

'I think you should go with them,' she murmured. 'Allen looked worried when he gave me the note. If you're not here in the palace when King Aston sends for you, so much the better.'

He looked at her appraisingly, and seemed about to ask her something, but Millerna called for help with her veil. The princess was unaccustomed to wearing the more sombre attire of a respectable Asturian woman, but had agreed with Carenza that they would be much less conspicuous this way. With a last glance at Carenza, Van picked up Hitomi's bag and thrust it into the surprised girl's arms.

'Take it with you, you might need it,' he said.

The market was busy, and Van stalked at Millerna's side, his eyes scanning the crowd suspiciously. He turned round to look for Hitomi, who was gaping at a dolphin man carrying a string of fish.

'What are you doing?' he snapped. 'You're getting left behind.'

Carenza fell back a little; the last thing they needed was for Hitomi or Merle to get lost in the crowd. She spotted Hitomi staring at something on a stall of jewellery and trinkets. Carenza started to move towards her, then froze at a cry from Millerna.

'What's wrong? Van!'

She turned to see Van haring off through the crowd towards a nearby bridge. On the far side of the canal, a familiar tall figure was disappearing into an alley.

'Folken,' she whispered.

She stood there, frozen. What should she do? Try to stop Van, she supposed, but she had never been much good at running. Knowing her she'd just twist an ankle on the cobblestones, which wouldn't help anyone. Dammit, nothing she did at the moment seemed to go right; by encouraging Van to stay out of King Aston's way she had merely brought him to where he would see Folken. Besides, if Van wasn't afraid to go after the brother who had tried to take him prisoner once already, who was she to interfere? Best to leave them to it. It felt like a coward's decision, though.

'Van!' Hitomi's cry split the air, and passersby stopped to stare at her.

'What's the matter, Hitomi?' asked Millerna. 'You don't look so good.'

'Van...Where's Van?'

'He ran off towards the harbour-'

Hitomi took off after Van in a ground-covering sprint.

'Hey, what's the matter?' Merle cried, and hurried after her.

'Strange girls...' Millerna murmured.

Carenza sighed. The wrong decision again, she supposed. Today was not turning out well at all.

Whilst she and Millerna were debating whether to go and look for Van and his friends, they were passed by a squad of palace guards. Carenza's heart sank. If Folken didn't get Van now, the young king would surely find himself a 'guest' of King Aston very soon.

There was a scream from several women in the crowd, and Carenza looked up to see a flash of light in the sky. A seagull plummeted down towards the market stalls, one wing severed. 

'What in heaven's name-!'

A silver thread, like a bolt of lightning turned to steel, stabbed down towards a spot in the direction Van had gone. Towards Folken? Carenza felt bile rising in her throat and turned away from Millerna, a hand pressed to her mouth. She wanted to run to him, make certain that he had not been hit, but her legs felt like jelly. Instead she bought a cup of mint tea from a nearby stall, and stood sipping it until she had stopped shaking. Love him or hate him, she could never be indifferent to Folken's fate.

'There they are!' cried Millerna.

Carenza looked up to see the palace guards escorting Van, Hitomi and Merle across the bridge. The young king looked angry and disappointed, but certainly not like one who has just seen his brother cut down in front of his eyes. She breathed a sign of relief, and followed Millerna back to the palace.

That evening aboard the Vione, Folken was keeping an eye on Dilandau. Not only did it help take his mind off his own misery, but it was becoming increasingly necessary. The boy was now totally obsessed with getting revenge against Van - for the defeat of his Dragonslayers, for the damage to his Alceides, and most of all for the cut on his face. He lounged in a chair, scratching mechanically at a wine carafe with the tip of his dagger. Just as Folken was about to tell him to stop, Dilandau hurled the knife at the carafe, and it smashed to the deck. A viscid red pool spread across the stone floor.

'Folken, I hate waiting!' he screamed.

'There's no hurry - we know where the dragon is,' Folken replied.

'Why don't you capture it now?' Dilandau smiled, an eager glint in his eye. 'Emperor Dornkirk would appreciate that.'

Just then the door hissed open. A Dragonslayer was silhouetted against the bluish light from the corridor. Gatti, by the look of it.

'May I come in, sir?'

'What is it?' snapped Dilandau.

'Sir, His Excellency General Adelphus has sent a message.'

Dilandau got out of his chair, suddenly all attention.

'From Lord Adelphus? Read it.'

'Yes, sir.' He unrolled a large scroll. ' "We have orders to occupy Freid. We will head for Asturia with my army".'

Folken stepped forward from his place in the shadows.

'One of the Four Generals himself? So, the location of the power spot has been found...'

Dilandau moved towards Gatti.

'Then, what Lord Dornkirk's been looking for was finally...'

' "The Destiny Prognostication Engine has detected the dragon's shadow",' Gatti read. ' "Capture it before the operation begins".'

'Yes!' The silver-haired boy crowed.

' "P. S. Don't get carried away." That-'

Dilandau struck Gatti across the face. The Dragonslayer staggered but kept his feet.

'That was all,' he murmured.

Folken frowned. Trust Dilandau to take offence at a reprimand from his superior. He decided it was time to assert his own authority over the mission.

'Our army has to use Asturia's port as a staging ground for the advance into Freid. He's advising you not to upset Asturia with your careless actions.'

'Why don't we simply occupy the harbour?' Dilandau sneered. 'I just want my revenge on Van.'

Humour him, Folken thought. In this mood, he'd kill Van just to spite me. If he thinks I care little about Van, it might take the edge off his bloodlust.

'You can have your revenge after you bring him to me,' Folken sighed.

'What, you're going to give me your little brother? You don't care about him?'

'I am the man who destroyed my homeland,' he said coolly.

He walked away, enjoying Dilandau's stunned silence.

That same evening, the princesses and their guests attended a dinner in Van's honour. Carenza was left alone to wander her room aimlessly, picking up a book and putting it down without even looking at the cover. After about an hour she decided that what she needed was some fresh air.

She made her way down to the courtyard and then up a zigzag flight of steps to the wallwalk. It was cool up here, the wind teasing at her hair and wrapping her skirts about her legs. Scents of grilled meat and woodsmoke drifted up, mingling with the ever-present smell of the sea. Looking inland she could make out the dark bulk of the Vione. Anchor cables like strands of spider silk held the massive fortress earthbound. As the night sky darkened she could see that the fortress was banded with lights. Did Folken stand at one of those windows, looking seawards to the palace?

Her reverie was disturbed by the scrape of boot on stone. Looking around she saw a slender figure silhouetted against the night sky. He paced back and forth, sweeping his katana in a series of graceful arcs-

Memories came flooding back of another Fanelian prince at sword practice, of him smiling down at her, giving her his ring- With a sob she half-ran, half-fell down the stairs to the courtyard. She tore past the windblown fountain, oblivious to its spray, and somehow made it back to her room without meeting anyone. There she flung herself on her bed and wept, until at last she fell asleep from sheer exhaustion.

She was woken a few hours later by the slamming of doors and shouting from the corridor.

'What's going on?' she mumbled to the empty room. 

The red light of dawn seeped in through the open window, and with it came the smell of burning. Carenza scrambled out of bed. That wasn't the dawn; it was still night, and the red glow came from burning buildings. With a cry of alarm she grabbed her robe from the end of the bed and dashed out into the corridor.

It was empty, and on trying the doors further along she discovered that Hitomi's and Van's rooms were also unoccupied. She hurried downstairs to find the lower hall milling with servants and guards. She grabbed a passing page.

'What's happening?' she shouted over the din.

'Zaibach attack!' the boy replied. 'They've kidnapped the King of Fanelia's companion. Now there are guymelefs fighting in the streets - half the Artisans' Quarter is afire.'

Sweet Jeture, thought Carenza, what have I done? If I hadn't confronted Folken when I did, he might have been in a gentler mood when he met Van this afternoon, and might not now be resorting to desperate measures to recruit his little brother.

She headed back upstairs to dress, but as she turned the corner to go up the second half-flight her way was blocked by Princess Millerna. Her normally gentle features were set in a mask of cold fury.

'Where do you think you're going, Carenza Fassa?'

'I...to get dressed, your highness. Why, what's wrong?'

Millerna thrust her face close to Carenza's, looking into her eyes.

'Heading off to rendezvous with your lover? I'm surprised you're not already there with him, watching Palas burn from his floating fortress.'

'Folken and I are not-'

'Don't lie to me! Eries has told me everything.'

'But-'

'Just get out. I'll find myself another lady-in-waiting, one who knows where her loyalties lie. Pack your things and go.'

This wasn't fair; no matter with whom she sided, someone was going to take offence. For Dryden's sake she made one last effort at explanation.

'Your highness, please, you have to listen to me. I made a mistake-'

'That's right. A big mistake. So just go. Now.'

Millerna stepped aside to let Carenza pass. She made her way slowly up to her room, pulled out a trunk from the dressing room, and moving in a daze began to pack her clothes and books and jewellery. 

Dawn found her in a carriage heading west towards Ezgardia. She just hoped Dryden would still be there.


	22. In Transit

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Dryden was still in Ezgardia. She found him at his offices, supervising the packing of some marble statues.

'Whoa, careful there! You nearly had the arms off that one. Hey, sis!' He hugged her. 'You're lucky to have caught me. I'm heading off in a couple of days.'

'Where to?'

'Back to Asturia.' He picked up a bundle of papers and shoved them into a briefcase.

'I've just come from there,' she groaned.

He shrugged.

'You don't have to leave the ship if you don't want to. Though I may be there for some time.'

'Why _are_ you going home?' She leafed through some of the paperwork remaining on his desk. 'Profits look good; not in any trouble, are you?'

He pulled a face.

'I'm twenty-one; legally a full, one-hundred-percent, certified adult. And I'm engaged to a girl I haven't seen more than twice in the past five years. I thought it was about time I went home to claim my bride.'

'Millerna?'

'Yeah. I wonder what's she's like these days? She was a real little spitfire last time I met her, but of course she was only eleven then...'

'Dryden, I really need to tell you why I left Palas.' She glanced around, but the packers had left the room. In a low voice she explained about her brief but disastrous liaison with Folken, and Millerna's reaction. 'She thinks I betrayed Asturia to Zaibach. I'm afraid I haven't done you any favours with your fiancée.'

'Aw, she'll come round eventually. How could she resist me?' He grinned. 'Hey, do you remember that time at the picnic when I tried to get a kiss out of Eries and Millerna beat me up? Maybe she'll jump me again...'

'Dryden!'

Carenza spent most of the next few days in the library of the _Parunachian_, brushing up on her English. When Dryden turned up with his own baggage ready to board, she discovered they would have another passenger, one who required special accommodation.

'I bought her from a trader down south,' he said, blowing a kiss to the mermaid as she was carried on board in a well-soaked canvas sling. 'I just couldn't bear to think of her spending the rest of her life in some tiny algae-encrusted tank in a rich man's menagerie.'

'Ugh, no, that's barbaric,' Carenza agreed. 'So, what are you going to do with her? Keep her in a large, well-maintained tank in your own private zoo-cum-harem?'

'No! What do you take me for?'

'I'm sorry - that was unkind. Recent events have made me very...cynical.'

'Actually I was planning to let her go,' Dryden said. 'Just don't tell anyone. I haven't told my accountant yet, and he's gonna go ballistic when he finds out.'

The flight back to Asturia took another three days; contrary winds slowed the _Parunachian_'s normally swift pace to a crawl. As night fell on the third day the ship's intercom crackled into life.

'Mister Fassa? This is the captain. Please come down to the observation deck immediately.'

Carenza jumped up from her book and headed out into the corridor, but Dryden was already halfway down the stairs. His rat-like assistant approached.

'Young master, you paid so much for that mermaid, and now you're just going to let her go? The old master will have my head for this.'

'Don't be such a penny-pincher. Beautiful things belong in their natural environment.' They walked over to the wide viewport. A small leviship had docked with the _Parunachian_. 'That's the _Crusade_, isn't it?'

'They're asking to meet with you.'

Carenza approached the top of the stairs and leant over the balcony. What was the Crusade doing out here? Had they rescued Hitomi from Zaibach? She hoped so; it had been nearly two weeks since her own precipitate departure from Palas.

A familiar voice floated up from the room below.

'You're Dryden, aren't you?'

Princess Millerna? Carenza stepped back, unwilling to be seen by her former friend.

'Who are you?' asked Dryden.

'She's Millerna, third princess of Asturia,' his assistant explained.

Dryden grinned.

'My apologies, your highness, I really didn't recognise you after all these years. How are you?'

'I'm fine,' Millerna said curtly. Reluctantly she added, 'And you?'

'Couldn't be better. C'mon into my study,' he purred. He looked round at his assistant. 'Hey, some tea for the princess, will ya?'

A while later Dryden came upstairs to see Carenza.

'I gotta go over to the _Crusade_,' he said. 'Seems they have an Ispano guymelef needs fixing.'

'Escaflowne?'

'You know about it?'

She nodded.

'Zaibach are after it. Or Van. Or both. You haven't told anyone I'm here, have you?'

''Course not. Your secret's safe with me, sis.' He pecked her on the cheek and made to leave.

'Dryden?'

'Yeah?'

'If you find out anything about Hitomi and whether she got back safe, you will let me know? I feel sort of responsible for what happened to her.'

'No problem! See you later!'

Carenza watched from the observation deck as Dryden walked out across the docking gantry to the _Crusade_, then ordered a pot of tea for herself. She was just about to go back up to her room, when the sky outside began to glow blue-white, and the air was filled with a rumble that she felt rather than heard. Rushing to the window she saw a monstrous ship descend from a rent in the sky, and a swarm of tiny ships emerge and buzz over to the _Crusade_. An attack? But there was no weapons fire, and the _Crusade_ made no attempt to get away. Besides it was so...enormous. Even Zaibach had nothing like it, she was sure.

She wandered into Dryden's study, biting her lip in concentration. If anyone had information on a ship like that, it would be her brother. He was fascinated by ancient mysteries, especially the technology of their ancestors. He even liked to claim that the _Parunachian_ used ancient anti-gravity devices instead of the more primitive levistones, but Carenza thought it more likely that the ship was of Zaibach manufacture, with levistones concealed in the bowels of its mechanism.

The study was in disarray, piled with objets d'art and books. Two porcelain tea-bowls sat amongst the clutter, stained with tannin scum, and next to them lay a large manuscript tome. Its age-stained pages bore a drawing of a ship just like the one outside...

> "Thee auncient knowledge of Atlantys was not lost, howsoever. They built them creatures of flesshe and machine, callynge them Yspanoe, and gave unto them the secrets of Atlantys. Manie were the cunnynge devyces and engines of warre wroughte thereto bye the Yspanoe, y-bounded by blode curse to ther captaynes, yea, even unto deth. So yt was that battaille raged yn alle the realms of the auncients. When thee city of Atlantisse suffer'd destrucion, the Yspanoe withdrew them ynto the shynynge void and hidde from the eyes of Men. Yet yt ys sayd that their devyces may call unto them atte need, summonynge the mighty shippe from thee void."

In the margin Dryden had scribbled "Emergency repairs - communication device?". It looked like Dryden had called out the Ispano to fix Escaflowne, which must mean that Van had taken some serious damage. She just hoped that he had managed to rescue Hitomi in the process.

'Whoa, time to batten down the hatches, sis!'

Carenza looked up sleepily to see Dryden standing in the doorway, looking flushed but excited. She had fallen asleep on the sofa, reading the ancient manuscript. The red light of dawn flooded in through the door to the observation deck.

'W-what's happening?'

'Zaibach guymelefs! Van's fighting them in Escaflowne!'

'Oh no, not again!' She struggled to her feet, feeling drowsy and disoriented. 'What about Hitomi?'

'She's fine! I tell ya, that little lady knows a whole lot...' He trailed off thoughtfully. 'Time to hide this ship. Now I have no fleet, it'll be much easier to keep out of Zaibach's way.'

She snapped awake.

'What happened to the fleet?'

'I traded it in to the Ispano for the repairs on Escaflowne,' he said, wandering out onto the observation deck. Carenza stumbled after him.

'You did what? Half my savings were invested in your fleet.'

He hung his head.

'I'm sorry...I-I'd totally forgotten. I just - I just wanted to make Millerna happy.' He stared out of the window at the _Crusade_ docked alongside.

'You threw away my dowry to please Millerna?'

'I said I was sorry...'

'Never mind,' she sighed. 'But you owe me big time, you hear?'

She went up to her room, washed her face and changed into fresh clothes. She was just brushing her hair when there was a knock on the door, and Dryden poked his head round.

'I have someone here who'd like to see you,' he said.

'Who is it?'

He tapped the side of his nose and winked at her. Princess Millerna came into the room.

'Your highness?' She flashed Dryden a look that said, I don't know what you're trying to do here, but it won't work. He just winked again and left.

'Please, Carenza, hear me out,' said Millerna. 'I've come to apologise.'

'Apologise? To me?'

Millerna sat down.

'I've spoken to Hitomi, and...well, it appears that Zaibach weren't behind the kidnap attempt at all.' She swallowed hard. 'It was my father.'

'What?'

'I've talked it over with Hitomi and Allen and Mr Mole, and there's no doubt about it.'

'But why? What would he have to gain?'

'It seems that my father - and I have to say here that he was encouraged by _your_ father in this - had decided to keep Escaflowne for himself. He knew, of course, that Van would never give it up willingly, so they intended to hold Hitomi hostage for it. They would hand Van over to Zaibach and he would have to say that Escaflowne had been destroyed; otherwise they would kill Hitomi.'

Carenza could only stare at her, aghast.

'It's awful, I know,' the princess went on. 'That's why I had to come and apologise to you. I still don't agree with what you did, regarding the Strategos, I mean, but that was your business. To be honest, I was surprised to find out that you were here and not with him.'

'We...we split up,' Carenza said, through the lump in her throat. 'He lied to me about Van, so the day before the kidnapping I...told him I never wanted to see him again.'

'I'm so sorry.'

Carenza looked up; the princess had sounded genuinely sympathetic.

'I know what it's like to be in love with someone and not be sure if they love you back.' She blushed. 'I'd better go.'

'You're going where?'

Dryden was sorting through a stack of old maps, unrolling them and then tossing them aside.

'I can't pass this up, sis. How many times in a man's life does he get an excuse to search for the Mystic Valley? Aha!' He carried his find over the desk and began weighting down the corners.

'You're still trying to impress Millerna, aren't you?' 

Carenza picked up the discarded maps and started putting them back in the chest. Dryden turned around and leant back against the edge of the desk.

'No! Well, maybe a bit. Dammit, if we're going to get married, I would rather she got to like me first.'

She straightened up.

'Dryden, I don't know how to tell you this, but-'

'She's in love with Allen. I know,' he said sadly.

'You do?'

'I'm not stupid. I've seen the way she looks at him. But I'm not going to give her up. She's...so beautiful - and clever too. Do you know she's training to be a doctor? She even operated on Allen and saved his life.'

She saved your rival's life and you're just proud of her skills? Oh, little brother; why do we both fall in love with the wrong people?

'I hope you'll be very happy together,' she said.

'Don't say it like that. Look, I'd like you to do something for me. Actually, quite a few things.'

'Like you don't owe me a whole heap already!'

'And I've never done anything for you, right? No picking you up in Freid, or trips to Fanelia...?'

Not something she wanted to think about right now. She gave in, just to get him to drop the topic.

'All right, what is it?'

'First, could you take Sylvie to the ocean for me? We'll be flying too far north, or I'd do it myself.'

'I thought you'd gotten rid of your other ships?'

'The fleet may be gone, but I still have a couple of skimmers in the hangar here, and I can spare a pilot for you. We can rig up a holding tank in the _Mayfly_; she has the lift, though it'll slow her down quite a bit.' Carenza nodded; Dryden must be serious if he was planning to leave his favourite skimmer behind. 'And...' He took hold of her hand. 'I know this is asking a lot...but could you please go to Father and ask him to start making wedding preparations? We haven't set a date yet, but there must be some paperwork and stuff that can be drawn up in the meantime. And I trust you to organise guest lists and get quotes for printed invitations and all that stuff.'

She pulled her hand away.

'I don't know, Dryden. This is all very sudden. Shouldn't you wait until you get back?'

'Did you wait?'

'Touché. All right, but I won't stay in Palas an hour longer than I have to.'

'That's all right. I have one more thing to ask of you.'

'Go on,' she sighed.

'Sandro is renting a villa on the coast. Would you go to him and ask if he'll paint our wedding portrait?'

'Very well,' she said, and smiled. 'As long as you don't expect him to make an honest woman of me.'

Dryden blushed.

'Boy, was I naïve in those days! Actually I'm glad I was; I don't think I could have sat for that painting if I'd known. You at least will be perfectly safe with him.'

'So were you. He's a decent man.'

Dryden nodded. Carenza gave him a peck on the cheek, then looked around the study.

'Hey, what happened to the other painting?'

'I never did get around to putting it up in here.' He shrugged. 'Oh, there it is, over in the cor- oh shit, you don't think Millerna saw it when she was in here, do you?'

'Probably not, otherwise she would have either slapped you or jumped your bones by now.'

'You think?' he said, grinning wickedly.

She gave him an old-fashioned look.

'No. Hide it. In a big, locked crate. At the back of your darkest storeroom. Or you can kiss your oh-so-pretty princess goodbye.'

* * * * * * * * * * *

Author's Note: Writing these chapters in which the protagonist is not directly involved in the main action has proved much the hardest part so far. Apologies if it makes for somewhat disjointed reading. Still, not long to go now...

P.S. Sorry for the bad Venus de Milo joke in the opening scene :)


	23. New Beginnings

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Fate must have been on her side that day, for instead of going straight to the palace as she had planned, she stopped off at her father's offices, where she was told that he was at his townhouse. She found the house all closed up, but a back door was open and inside her father was supervising the transferral of paintings and other small furnishings to the cellar.

'What's going on, Father?'

He dusted off his hands and waved the servants away.

'We live in uncertain times, my dear,' he said. 'With both you and your brother away and my duties to the Crown taking up all my time, it seemed wise to protect my property from possible...hazards.'

'You mean war?'

He shrugged.

'Freid has been conquered. Who knows where Zaibach will strike next? So, have you seen Dryden lately?'

'He...he's gone to the Mystic Valley, father.'

'What kind of damnfool wild goose chase is he on now? No, don't tell me. This is something to do with Leon Schezar...his son is trying to trace his last journey, am I right?'

She nodded. Her father's guesses were alarmingly astute.

'And Millerna?'

'Um, yes, she's with them.'

'I suppose the young king of Fanelia is there too, and that girl...?'

'I don't know, I didn't see them,' she said truthfully.

'Hmm, well, this does put us in a tight spot.'

'Why so?'

'King Aston has taken his daughter's disappearance very badly. He blames himself, of course, for not standing up to Zaibach, though how he could have done so without losing his own kingdom, I can't imagine.'

Oh god, please don't let him mention Folken...

'So, is there anything needs doing to prepare for Dryden and Millerna's wedding?' she asked.

He shook his head.

'I think it would be best to wait until they return safely. If the king finds out that you or your brother played any part, however small, in helping Millerna run away, he'll have us roasting over hot coals before you can say "high treason".'

Carenza went pale.

'H-he wouldn't, would he?'

'If I were you, my girl, I'd start praying to all the seadragons of Asturia that they not only come home safe and sound, but that the king is so relieved to see them back he doesn't question Dryden's part in all this.'

Carenza spent that night in her old room. It felt very strange, for she had not slept here since she first went to be a lady-in-waiting, nearly thirteen years ago. Exactly half her life. It felt like an eternity.

Next morning she took a carriage down the coast to the village where Alessandro was renting a villa. It was such a relief to get out of the capital; every time she saw a palace guard ride by, her heart skipped a beat. At last they were out in open countryside, rattling along the coast road. The air was honey-sweet with lime blossom, the corn was ripening to greenish-gold in the summer sun, and little boys ran along the side of the road, waving at the carriages as a respite from their task of frightening away the pigeons. Carenza threw a handful of coppers to a particularly hungry-looking pair, to stern looks from her fellow passengers. She grinned at them, in too ebullient a mood to be cowed by anyone, and they looked away.

Alessandro was almost pathetically pleased to see her. She noticed that he was looking rather thin, and there seemed to be very few servants for such a large villa.

'Come in, come in, signorina. What brings you out here to see a humble artist? I don't suppose you've brought that divine brother of yours to see me?'

'Not exactly,' she said, and allowed herself to be shown through into a shabbily-furnished parlour.

'I'm afraid this isn't the sort of place you're used to,' Alessandro said. He shooed a fat elderly lapdog off a threadbare chaise and sent a servant off to make tea.

'Really, it's...charming,' she said. 

She sat down on the chaise. Its former occupant growled at her.

'Now, Duchess.' He patted his own chair arm, and the dog waddled over to flop at his feet. 'Came with the property, I'm afraid. Used to belong to an old lady; left the house but nothing else in her will, now it's rented out for a pittance to cover the cost of dog food and vet's bills.'

Carenza nodded politely. They sat in silence until the tea arrived; Alessandro seemed too embarrassed at being found living in such a place to be his usual talkative self.

'So,' he said, pouring them both a cup of tea, 'how have you been?'

'Not so good,' she admitted. She told him about Folken, or as much as she felt able to, and he patted her hand.

'Men, huh?' He poured a little of his tea into his saucer and put it down for the dog. She sniffed at it then began to lap daintily. Carenza picked up her own cup.

'And you? How did the fresco go?'

'Never finished,' he said. 'The muse deserted me, and so I had to give my regrets to my patron.'

'I'm so sorry.'

'The worst part is, he paid me for what I had done so far, which was no more than a charcoal outline and part of the landscape. As far as I know, it's still there, with big holes in the painting where the Atlanteans should be. He said he'd rather have an unfinished di Luca than a complete fresco by anyone else. I haven't had a major commission since...'

'So how have you been managing?'

'Oh, I still have my bread-and-butter jobs; prize cattle, fat ugly merchants and their uglier wives...'

'How about a handsome young merchant and his beautiful bride?'

Alessandro's head lifted.

'Dryden's getting married?'

'Uh-huh. And he wants you to paint the wedding portrait.'

Alessandro leapt out of his chair and hugged her, then burst into tears.

Carenza sat in her room in Alessandro's villa, going through a tailor's catalogue. Dryden is not going to like this, she thought. There is no way the king is going to let his daughter walk down the aisle with a man wearing a baggy shirt and habayah. What would the court say? She leafed through the pages, trying to find a style that didn't look too stuffy or overblown. For a moment she tried to imagine Dryden in puffy sleeves like Allen. No, no, it was too ridiculous. On the other hand Allen's overskirt wasn't so many miles from a habayah in general appearance. Maybe a compromise would be possible after all.

She put down the catalogue and walked over to the window. Alessandro was puttering about his garden in a jaunty striped apron, snipping dead heads off the early roses and humming to himself.

'I hope you're not getting any foolish ideas into your head regarding my brother,' she said to him at dinner. There, it's out in the open now.

'No, of course not.' He put down his knife and fork and looked into her eyes. 'You still don't trust me, do you, Carenza sweetie?'

'Well, I just don't know what to make of you, going into raptures about seeing him again.'

'It's not just about him.' He sighed. 'My patron in Daedalus may have been understanding about the fresco, but word got out. A commission to paint the next Queen of Asturia and her Prince Consort, on the other hand...with that to my name, I shall be able to pick and choose my work.'

'And your muse...?'

'I'll find another one. It's about time I got off my arse and stopped feeling sorry for myself.' He smiled broadly and raised his glass.

'To new beginnings!'

'New beginnings...' she murmured.

For two months there was no good news to be had. No word, of course, from Dryden. And there were rumours from the capital that King Aston was seriously ill. Millerna had not been seen since the conquest of Freid, and the thought that she might be dead had broken the old man's heart. At least there was no mention of Dryden in connection with this; he had been away so long that she doubted most people even remembered the name of Millerna's fiance. Then, as summer was turning to autumn, the news was flashed from hilltop to hilltop - Princess Millerna was home, and she and Mr Dryden Fassa would be married immediately. Carenza and Alessandro hurriedly packed their bags and headed for the capital to meet them.


	24. Casualties of War

AbiWord Document

Folken paced his study. He was growing tired of this game of cat-and-mouse with Van. First the abortive trip to Asgard, then the sorcerors had sent news that Van had actually come to the capital and been captured. Folken had headed straight back to Zaibach, only to discover that the sorcerors had let Van slip through their fingers. Incompetent fools! Emperor Dornkirk's plans were so close for completion, needing only the elimination of the dragon to clear the way for final victory...

No, not the elimination of the dragon. It was the girl who was the source of his power, the girl who could see through Folken's stealth cloaks, who had taught Van to do the same. Keep those two apart, make them suspicious of one another, and there would be no need for any more deaths. Van was the less trusting of the two; break his faith in her, and he would be powerless. It was cruel, he conceded - without her, Van had no-one he could truly rely on - but it was that or kill his little brother. And that, Folken would never do.

'Listen, Eriya, we'll play Allen Schezar and Hitomi Kanzaki.'

They were standing on a narrow bridge, under a beam of light that reflected back up into the Fate Accelerator.

'Yes, Lord Folken...I mean, Allen.'

'Good. The stage is set, and the actors are here. Now is the time to move the vector of their hearts. Redirect fate.'

'Redirecting fate.' The cry echoed from one technician to another as energy flowed through the vast machinery.

Folken raised his hand towards Eriya, and she mirrored his action.

'Hitomi.'

'Allen.'

Emperor Dornkirk's voice boomed out from the observation screen.

'The wheel of fate is turning!' 

The cat-girl's eyes flickered away briefly.

'Concentrate,' Folken urged.

She looked into his eyes, her pupils wide, trusting.

'Allen,' she murmured.

'Target value cleared,' shouted a technician.

'Hitomi.' _Carenza_...

'Elementary particle density decreasing!'

Dammit! 'Get rid of all worldly thoughts, Eriya. Think of me...with all your strength.' And I will try think of you, not her...

'Lord Folken, I-'

'It may be difficult, but think of me.'

'Yes, Lord Folken.'

He pulled her closer. She was trembling in his arms. Fear - or something else?

'Fate particles reaching critical density. The materials have combined.'

'Hitomi.'

'Allen.'

Folken bent down and kissed Eriya lightly on the lips. She strained upwards to meet him, and he forced himself to maintain the kiss until the reaction was complete.

'Wonderful!' sighed Lord Dornkirk. 'A new fate has begun...'

Folken breathed a sigh of relief and drew back. He had almost lost it there. And Eriya? He knew his cat-girls were fond of him, but this was something more. Something he had been trying to avoid ever since they had started to blossom into womanhood.

'Are you sure you want to go through with this?' Carenza asked.

Dryden adjusted the velvet bonnet for the umpteenth time, but the feather still stuck out at an awkward angle.

'Well, I'd feel better about it if I didn't have to wear this stupid hat, that's for sure.' He pulled it off and slumped down on a chair.

'But seriously...'

'I have to. King Aston is sick, and in the present political climate that makes Asturia a sitting duck.'

'You're going to marry Millerna just to see the country through a political crisis?'

'No. I love her. I...I wish we had time, so she could learn to love me too, but we don't.'

'I'm sure she'll come around eventually,' said Carenza. 'I hear that Allen's already sniffing elsewhere, now that Millerna's all but married.'

He smiled ruefully.

'Yeah. I don't think young Fanelia's too pleased about that.'

They gossiped for a while about their friends' tangled love-lives, then Dryden got to his feet.

'The groom's men will be here any moment to escort me to the barge. You'd better get over to the plaza or you'll miss the big event.'

Folken watched as the Fortune blood suffused the veins of the two cat-girls. They were so trusting, he thought, they would do anything for him. Die for him? No, it mustn't come to that. That was what this whole plan was all about; minimising casualties. With enhanced fortune flowing through their bodies, nothing could stop the Leopard Twins from capturing Hitomi Kanzaki.

It was a beautiful wedding. The sun shone, the happy couple were, if not happy, then at least young and rich and handsome, and the crowds cheered.

'I wish he'd let me paint them before the wedding.' Alessandro muttered. 'They're going to have more important things to do afterwards than sit for me.'

'I think Dryden thought it would be bad luck.' Carenza stretched up on tiptoe to see past the Knights of Heaven flanking the altar. 'Ssh, this is the most romantic bit...'

'...joined in holy matrimony,' said the priest, as Dryden slipped the ring onto Millerna's finger.

Alessandro wiped his eyes. 

'Such a waste,' he sniffed.

Then Dryden kissed Millerna, and everything started to fall apart.

'No!' Hitomi ran up the aisle tripping on the red carpet. 'Don't kiss!'

The sky darkened, and the crowd rumbled in consternation.

'What's going on?'

'An eclipse?'

'That's a bad omen for sure.'

Then someone screamed the one word everyone had been hoping not to hear, today of all days.

'Zaibach!'

The crowd ran screaming.

Flash.

The graceful campanile, crumpling like wet paper.

Flash.

A pair of guymelefs with streaming hair, coming gracefully in to land.

Flash.

Dryden running to safety with Millerna in his arms.

Flash.

A rain of masonry, blocks as big as a man's body, falling with a roar that blocked out all thought except escape...Carenza screamed as a burning crossbeam caught her a glancing blow and pinned her to the ground. Just as she was passing out, she thought she heard a familiar voice.

'Folken...?' she murmured.

Darkness.

'Sir, there's a problem with the Fortune Enhancer.'

'What?' Damn this stupid fate technology! It could change fate, but was not itself invulnerable to the changing tides of fortune.

'Nariya, Eriya! That's enough - withdraw!'

The two Teiring guymelefs soared upwards, but after a couple of hundred feet one of them faltered and began to sink earthwards. The cat-girls' voices crackled over the comlink.

'Sister!' That sounded like Eriya.

'You must return to Lord Folken,' replied Nariya. 

'Sister...!'

Folken hurried down to the hangar. Eriya's Teiring came in to land, and the cat-girl staggered from the cockpit. Folken choked back a cry of horror. She looked...older, and so pale...

'Get her to the lab - immediately!'

'Why did you have them withdraw, Folken? Why did you disobey me?'

Folken grimaced. Wasn't there anywhere on this gods-forsaken ship he could get away from the emperor's voice?

'I was afraid that, at that rate, it would have put them in further danger.' No more deaths...

'It can't be helped. This is for our ideal future.'

Fuck your ideal future, Folken thought. Can't you see she's in pain?

Eriya's eyes fluttered open.

'Lord Folken...'

'I'm sorry, Eriya, I...'

'Lord Folken, we'll be all right.'

So trusting. He didn't deserve such trust.

'I'm worried about Nariya,' he said.

'Don't worry, she'll be all right. I can tell.' Eriya smiled weakly, and closed her eyes.

Folken went to his room to try and get some rest, but sleep evaded him. After a few hours tossing and turning on the hard bed he got up and sat at his desk, going through his notes once more.

There was a knock at the door. Folken turned, expecting to see Migel or Gatti or one of the other Dragonslayers. No, of course, they were all dead...

'Sir, you're wanted in the communications chamber at once,' said the soldier.

'I'll be right there.'

So many young lives lost, and for what?

In the communications chamber the familiar face of Lord Dornkirk filled the sepia screen.

'The image of the girl is about to appear.' said the emperor. 'Dispatch the enhanced fortune soldier at once.'

'But she hasn't fully recovered yet...' Folken protested.

'Do not worry. The device is functioning normally.'

'But...'

The door to the communications chamber hissed open, and Eriya stood silhouetted against the light.

'Lord Folken, you don't have to worry about me. Please, let me go.'

'Eriya...' She can barely stand, and yet she wishes to go on fighting for our cause. Perhaps I should not judge others by my own standards, I who ran from the most important battle of my life...perhaps I should not try to take this from her. 'Very well. I'll have the Teiring prepped for launch immediately.'

Folken made his way up from the hangar, heading for the bridge. A shudder ran through the Vione, and the ship's alarms began to blare. He grabbed the nearest comlink.

'What's happening, commander?'

'I-it's the Dragon, sir. He's here and..he's demanding to see you, sir.'

Van? Here? He picked up his pace.

The bridge was a smoking ruin. Van had smashed the observation port, and a rent in the deck gushed steam. Folken didn't have to look at the instruments to know that the cloaking mechanism had been disabled.

'Van..'

'Brother.' Van's voice was taut and angry, amplified by the guymelef's acoustics.

'Why can't you understand, Van? The beginning of our new world is approaching. This is the end of war...' 

The two Teirings crashed onto the bridge in front of Escaflowne.

'Leave him to us, Lord Folken.'

'Nariya...' This isn't how it's supposed to happen...

'What's wrong with you?' Eriya shouted at Van. 'Lord Folken cares about you, don't you see that? Why can't you understand?'

'Eriya!'

'I won't let anyone make Lord Folken unhappy!'

Van seemed to hesitate, then Escaflowne's energist began to power up. Before he could move to attack, however, the bridge was rocked by another explosion. Folken just had time to see Escaflowne thrown clear before Eriya's guymelef moved to shield him from the blast. With a whine of crippled engines, the _Vione_ began to lose altitude.

As the floating fortress slowly sank towards the beckoning waves, the two cat-girls came scrambling out of their guymelefs to sit at Folken's feet and place their heads in his lap. He stroked them tenderly with his good hand. Their fur felt dry and lifeless under his fingers, and their ears seemed to be shrivelling as he watched. The shining tracks of capillaries filled with enhanced fortune blood winked out.

'Lord Folken, please escape, quickly,' Nariya gasped.

'Don't worry about us,' said Eriya. 'We're just glad to have met you.'

'And we're dying with you by our side. Goodbye, Lord Folken.' She went limp against his knee. 

He sat there for several more minutes, until he was sure they were both gone. They he climbed into Nariya's undamaged Teiring and flew out through the observation port, just as the _Vione_ sank into the ocean.

Goodbye, little sisters. Forgive me...


	25. Restitution

AbiWord Document

Van still wasn't speaking to him, of course. Folken had hoped that his own defection to Asturia, and all the military intelligence he was able to give the allies, would be proof enough of his good intentions. He should have known that he had betrayed his brother's trust too many times for the breach between them to heal so quickly. Hitomi, on the other hand, seemed eager to try; afraid of him and yet desperate to change fate by willing the future to hold the happiness she longed for. Did that future include her return to the Mystic Moon? He hoped not, for his brother's sake, and he sorely regretted the fate alteration he had worked on Hitomi and Allen. The Knight of Heaven could have any woman he wanted; but Van needed her.

And there was one other person to whom he had to make amends...

'You have some nerve, coming here.' Dryden stood between him and the hospital bed, his arms folded.

Folken inclined his head apologetically.

'How is she?'

'Alive. No thanks to you.'

'Believe me, if I could change what happened...'

A nurse came bustling up.

'Really, gentleman! The young lady should not be disturbed. If you cannot be quiet I shall have to ask you to leave.'

Dryden reluctantly stepped to one side. Folken approached the bed with a heavy heart. Carenza lay there unmoving, a yellowish bruise on her right temple. Lower down, the blankets were held up on a metal framework to spare her burned legs any friction. He reached out his good hand and touched hers. She did not respond.

'Oh, beloved,' he whispered. 'What have I done?'

On the way back to the makeshift lab he had set up in a burntout warehouse, Folken stopped by the palace. In the courtyard he peered down into the fountain until he spotted what he was looking for. He rolled up the sleeve from his left arm and reached into the icy water to retrieve the Heart of Fanel. Maybe he couldn't kill a dragon for her, but there was one last thing he could do.

Back in his lab, he sat down to write a letter. He was just finishing when Hitomi appeared in the doorway.

'Folken? Van's hurting. We have to end this war.'

He nodded in agreement.

'I knew you'd come...'

'But I saw... Folken...you're going to die in Zaibach, Folken...I saw something terrible-'

'You shouldn't be getting out of bed yet, miss, you're not well-'

'He was here and you didn't wake me?'

'Your brother comes here every day, miss-'

'Not him - Lord Folken.'

'The tall gentleman with the blue hair? Yes, he was here this morning.'

Carenza climbed out of bed, clenching her teeth against the pain. Ignoring the nurse's protests, she pulled on her gown and pushed her feet into soft shoes, thanking heaven for Asturian fashions, with their long skirts that hid all sign of her injuries. She tried to walk to the door, but her legs were so weak...

'Bring me a cane!' she snapped at the nurse.

'But...'

'Bring me a cane, or my brother the Regent will have something to say about it.' Which he would, though not in the way that Carenza was implying.

'Yes, miss.'

'Sir, the female prisoner has escaped!'

'What? Then find her!' growled Garufo. 'Really, sergeant, your men have become appallingly lax since the Strategos defected.'

'It has had a serious impact on morale, sir.'

'That is no excuse. Now find her and get her back to her cell.' The sergeant ran off, and the sorceror grimaced. At least Lord Folken was not here, so there was little chance of him finding out about this incident. That would be most...regrettable.

Carenza took a hansom cab to the palace, and from there to the old warehouse. Inside, the lab was deserted. Against the far wall, a large machine hummed and glowed faintly. She hobbled down the steps and over to the workbench. Amongst the test-tubes and clay triangles lay a folded sheet of paper. On top of it lay a large black feather threaded through a gold ring set with a pink stone. With shaking hands she set aside the feather and unfolded the letter.

> My dearest love,
> 
> I wanted to wait for you, but it seems that we are not fated to be together. As you can see, my wings are now as black as they were once white. A reversal of fortune is shortening my life, and so all I have left is this last chance to atone for my sins. I go now to end this war and destroy the twisted monster who has blighted so many lives. 
> 
> I do not expect you to forgive me for all the pain I have caused you. I can only say that I always loved you, even when I seemed to think only of my former cause.
> 
> Farewell,
> 
> Yours eternally,
> 
> Folken.

She dropped the letter and sank onto a nearby stool. No, this was not happening, it was some fever dream and she would wake to find herself safe in her hospital bed...

'Carenza?'

She looked up through tear-swimming eyes to see a blurry pink -and-gold shape at the top of the stairs.

'M-Millerna?'

'What are you doing here? Come on, I'm taking you back to the hospital.'

Carenza picked up the feather, and slipped the Heart of Fanel off its barbs and onto her finger. Then she allowed herself to be led away.

Folken stood below the emperor's life support machine, gazing up at his former master. Here was where it all ended, all the years of pain and loneliness and deceit. The machinery surrounding Dornkirk hissed open like a guymelef cockpit, and the old man climbed out. Folken winced. Dornkirk was nothing but skin and bone and long long grey hair, this man who had lived far past his normal span, sustained by his obsession with fate.

'Come on, Folken!' the old man jeered.

'You're insane!'

Spreading his black wings Folken flew, up, up, to the very summit of the machinery, to land in front of Dornkirk, his wings beating gently for balance. A faint cry came up from below.

'Folken! Don't!'

He raised his sword and brought it down on the old man's head. It cut straight through the fragile figure and smashed into the mechanism. Green fluid gushed out of the life support system, and Folken's sword shattered. He watched in fascination as the broken tip spun in a slow arc...

She stumbled along the corridor, both palms flat against the wall for support. Where was she? She remembered sunlight, trees - and a sudden darkness as a leviship loomed overhead, soldiers everywhere, penning her in. Then blackness.

She rubbed her eyes to clear them. Had to find him...

'Folken...'

Folken stared down at the sword tip protruding from his chest. So, Hitomi was right, he thought calmly. I have killed Dornkirk, and so I die.

He felt himself falling. There was a brief impact as he smashed against one of the lower levels of the emperor's machine on the way down, but he felt nothing. As he fell it seemed to him that a white-winged figure caught him and gently carried him down to the ground. Folken strained his eyes against the blinding white light that seemed to envelop him.

'Brother...' he whispered.


	26. Always

AbiWord Document

As they crossed the plaza in front of the palace, the cab slowed down. Half the city seemed to be there, staring up at the sickly green light in the northern sky. Suddenly a pillar of white light stabbed down, and two figures descended, a white-winged one carrying the limp body of a black-winged one. The light faded, and the white-winged figure sank to its knees, dark hair brushing against the bared chest of-

'Folken!' Carenza screamed, and leaping out of the cab she stumbled over to them.

Folken lay still and deathly pale in the arms of his rescuer.

'Is he -?' She looked up, into familiar violet eyes. 'Queen...Varie?'

'Later,' she murmured. 'Please, help me save my son.'

'Yes, of course, I -' She looked around for Millerna. 

'Millerna! Millerna, get your medical bag! Hurry!'

To her credit Millerna responded without question. Carenza turned back to the two Draconians.

'What happened? Where have you been all this time?'

'I..I'm not sure,' Varie replied. 'When I went out to look for Folken, I found myself surrounded by Zaibach soldiers...'

She began to tremble, and Carenza feared she might drop Folken.

'Here, let me take him.'

She slipped her right arm under Folken's left shoulder, feeling the brush of feathers against her hand, and helped Varie lower his legs to the ground. Her blistered shins screamed in protest as she knelt, but she looked into the face of her beloved and the pain melted away. Despite their care, however, the swordtip embedded in his chest moved slightly, and a thread of blood trickled down to soak into Carenza's gown. He moaned faintly and his lips moved to form a single word. Brother.

'Van did this?' she whispered.

'No,' sighed Varie, withdrawing her wings with a grimace. 'Van was not there. It was an accident of fate. This is the point of Folken's own sword; it broke off when he attacked the thing that called itself Emperor Dornkirk.'

'But you were there.'

'Yes. The Zaibach sorcerors captured me.' A look of pain crossed her face, then her lips curved in a bitter smile. 'They thought that they could use a descendant of Atlantis to power their experiments, but I was skilled enough to evade them. They could do as they wished with my body -' She paused, and a shadow of pain crossed her delicate features. And they did, didn't they, thought Carenza in horror. '- but my soul was mine to take where I wished it to go. I watched my sons from afar, especially Van, and helped them where I could.' She smiled down at her elder son. 'I tried so many times to reach him, but they hurt him so badly he would not let anyone in. Except perhaps you.'

And I really screwed that one up, didn't I? Carenza thought bitterly.

Millerna arrived and took control with the authority of the profession she aspired to.

'Hold him still,' she said, and examined the wound. Then she felt his pulse and temperature. 'He's fading. I daren't give him a sedative for this operation, we'll lose him. Can you lower him - gently! If that point moves more than a finger's breadth it will kill him.'

They lowered Folken to the ground, folding his wings beneath him as best they could, and one of the bystanders hurried forward with a folded jacket to place under his head. A guard offered his cloak to Queen Varie, who was wearing only the thin cotton shift used in Zaibach hospitals; she accepted it with an absentminded murmur of thanks, her eyes never leaving her son.

'Hold him down,' instructed Millerna. 'He may be weak, but this will hurt and I don't want him to move an inch.'

The bystanders eyed Folken's mechanical arm nervously. Carenza knelt by his right side and held it against the ground by wrist and shoulder. After a moment three men moved to secure his legs and left arm. Millerna prised Folken's mouth open and slipped a wad of leather between his teeth.

'To stop him biting his own tongue in half,' she explained.

She took out a pair of forceps and carefully removed the fragment of sword blade. A little blood trickled out, but not much. Folken did not move. Millerna felt his throat.

'I'm sorry,' she said, shaking her head, 'he's gone.'

'No!' Carenza cried. She looked at her hand. The Heart of Fanel was as dark as night. 'Folken!'

Without conscious thought she placed her hand over his heart.

'Please, my love, live!' she whispered. 'This is not your fate.'

The energist fragment began to glow red, then pink, then a blinding white. Folken convulsed under her hand, like a sleeper on the threshold of a dream, and his heart began to beat again. Blood spurted up between her fingers.

'I have to close the wound,' Millerna gasped, 'or we'll lose him for good.'

There followed several anxious minutes as Carenza held Folken down with blood-slick hands whilst Millerna clamped and sutured the artery.

'All those hours spent on embroidery weren't wasted after all,' Millerna panted, grinning at Carenza through the blood streaking her face. She rinsed the wound with a dose of plain alcohol, causing Folken to shudder beneath Carenza's hands. Finally the princess threaded another needle with heavy black silk and closed the wound, then washed her hands and bandaged his chest.

'All right, he can have the opiate now; he'll be in a lot of pain when he comes round otherwise.' 

Carenza wiped her own hands and then removed the wad of leather from Folken's mouth. Whilst his mouth was still open, Millerna tipped the contents of a small vial between his lips and stroked his throat to make him swallow. He coughed, and his eyes fluttered open.

'Beloved?' he whispered.

'Ssh, rest now.' Carenza brushed a strand of blue-grey hair from his forehead, and kissed his brow.

More servants came with a stretcher and carefully lifted Folken onto it. After a glance at the queen, Millerna ordered a second stretcher, and the two Draconians were carried into the palace.

Millerna insisted on keeping Folken and Varie at the palace.

'The hospitals are full in any case,' she said. 'And the air in there is unclean, filled with the miasma of sickness. My royal patients are too precious to risk to such a place.' 

After a week's rest whilst her own reopened wounds healed, Carenza was allowed in to see Folken. He lay propped up on a heap of pillows, his wings now retracted. Someone had washed his blood-matted hair and it flopped in his eyes, just as she remembered from their first meeting.

She limped over to the chair next to the bed and sat down.

'Looks like we've both been in the wars,' he said ruefully.

She smiled.

'I really thought I'd lost you, this time. You're starting to make a bad habit of it.'

'I'm sorry. And thank you. For bringing me back.'

'It was your mother who saved you. If she hadn't brought you to Palas...'

A shadow passed over his face.

'When I find the bastards who captured her-' He grimaced, and began to cough.

She reached over to the bedside table and poured him a glass of water.

'Don't,' she warned him. 'You know what happens when people get set on revenge.'

He nodded and took a grateful sip.

'Dilandau...'

'He's gone back to being Celena.,' she said. 'We hope the reversal is permanent.'

They sat in silent for a few moments. Then Folken looked into the distance and sighed.

'So, Hitomi was right. I went to Zaibach and I died...'

'I don't like all this talk about dying, it's creepy and ill-omened.'

He raised an eyebrow.

'It's important. I died and fulfilled my fate...now the Atlantis Machine is destroyed, the fate it created is gone, and a new fate awaits me...the reversal of fortune is itself reversed. Does that mean...?' He picked up a black feather that lay on the bedside table. 'It is possible...'

'What?'

'That my wings are...not black any more.'

'Don't you know?'

He shook his head.

'I've been too afraid to look.'

'I think you should find out. Dammit, I have to know if I have you back for good or not!'

'All right. But you'll have to look first and tell me.' He climbed out of bed, pulling off the sheet to wrap selfconsciously about his lower half. He closed his eyes and with a grunt of effort unfurled his wings.

'Well?' he asked nervously.

Carenza picked up a shed feather and tickled his nose with it. His eyes opened.

'You're not kidding me?' he breathed.

'See for yourself,' she grinned.

He looked up and over his shoulder at the snowy wings spreading almost to the ceiling. Carenza squeaked in protest as he grabbed her in a bear hug.

'Watch those claws!' she protested.

'Sorry.'

'So, what happens now?'

'I don't know,' he sighed. 'Van wants me to go back to Fanelia with him and help with the rebuilding...'

'That's a great idea! You could try out some of those engineering plans you used to tell me about.'

He shook his head.

'I don't think I can face going back there just yet. Van needs to lift his people's morale, not insult them by welcoming the man who destroyed Fanelia.'

Carenza grinned suddenly.

'I know someone who would welcome you with open arms,' she said.

'Who?'

'I'll tell you later. Right now I just want you to concentrate on getting better. So back to bed with you.' She looked up at him, and caught him grinning slyly. 'On your own!' she exclaimed. 'Millerna says you're not to exert yourself until your wound is fully healed.'

'All right,' he said, pulling his wings back in with a final rain of white feathers. 'But you will stay with me for a while?'

'As long as you want me.' She settled her head against his good shoulder.

'Always,' he murmured into her hair.

END OF PART THREE

* * * * * * * * * * *

PLEA TO REVIEWERS! Given the dramatic plot twist in these closing chapters, I'd really appreciate it if you didn't post spoilers in your reviews. If you want to comment on the ending, please email me directly at [nariya@vione.co.uk][1]. Thanks.

   [1]: mailto:nariya@vione.co.uk



	27. Epilogue

AbiWord Document

'Are you sure you want to go through with this?' Carenza asked. 'I'd completely understand if you changed your mind.'

He smiled at her.

'For you, my sweet, I would undergo any amount of humiliation. I look upon it as just punishment.'

'Now stop it with the guilt trip, all right? We're just doing a friend a favour.'

He nodded meekly. Carenza rang the bell. There was no reply.

'He's probably in the garden,' she said. 'Come on, this way.'

She led the way round the side of the villa. An empty easel stood on the terrace, along with a stool and a glass of what had probably been iced tea.

'Sandro, have you seen my tortoiseshell comb? I think we have visitors.'

They looked round, and saw Allen standing at the French doors, a towel wrapped around his waist. His fair hair was hanging wet and limp about his shoulders. Upon seeing Carenza and Folken he flushed scarlet and disappeared into the house.

Moments later Alessandro emerged from the glasshouse with a basket of autumn squash.

'Carenza, darling, what are you doing back here? And who is this _gorgeous_ man?'

Carenza rolled her eyes.

'Folken, this is Alessandro di Luca. Alessandro, this is Folken Lacour de Fanel-'

'Please, just Folken, I'm not a prince any more.'

'-my fiancé.'

Alessandro pouted.

'You always have to spoil things, don't you?'

He gestured to some wicker chairs in the shade of a lemon tree and lifted a bottle of pale wine from a terracotta cooler.

'What's Allen doing here?' she blurted, unable to contain her curiosity.

'Well I did say I'd find myself a new muse...'

'What? Allen Schezar? Allen "Playboy of the Western World" Schezar?'

Alessandro grinned wickedly.

'It's amazing what you find out about people after a few glasses of champagne, my dear.'

'I thought he was planning to marry Hitomi Kanzaki?' said Carenza.

Folken raised a hand and looked sheepish.

'My fault, I'm afraid.' 

He told them about the fate alteration experiment. Carenza gave him a hard stare.

'What?' he protested. 'I was trying to save my brother's life.'

'Well I think you did him a favour,' said Alessandro. 'Brought everything to a head, made him re-examine his feelings. Poor boy's been fighting women off with a stick for years...Anyway, enough about us. What brings you two out this way? Dryden want his wedding portrait done after all?'

'No, that is, it's not why we're here. We...well, we've come to do you a favour.'

'A favour? For me? Really?' 

'Yes,' Carenza nodded her thanks and accepted a glass. She glanced nervously at Folken, who gestured for her to continue.'You-you know that commission you had to give up on, the one in Daedalus?'

Alessandro handed a glass of wine to Folken.

'Oh, the Atlantis fresco, you mean?'

'Yes, that one,' said Carenza. 'Well, I've brought you some inspiration. Folken, please?'

Folken put down his wine glass and unbuttoned his shirt. Alessandro raised an eyebrow and smiled appreciatively, then gasped as white wings sprouted from Folken's shoulders.

'Think this will help with your painting?' Folken said, arms folded.

'Oh my god, yes...' He jumped up and hugged Carenza. 'Wait there, don't move a heavenly muscle! Paper, paper...' He hurried off, muttering under his breath.

Carenza slipped her arms around Folken's waist.

'You heard what the man said. Don't move a muscle.'

'I can't kiss you if I don't move.'

'All right. Two muscles only, though, one for each lip.'

'Actually there are over two hundred muscles in the human face-'

She cut off his explanation with a slow, lingering kiss.

THE END

* * * * * * * * * * *

Author's Note: OK, so I changed the ending - a practice that has received a lot of negative feedback on the Escaflowne forum, at least in the context of Van and Hitomi. All I can say is that when I started outlining this story, I did intend to have Folken die, leaving Carenza to mourn him. On the other hand, this is Folken's story, not Van's, so I was open to the possibility of his surviving, if only I could come up with a plausible mechanism...

About halfway through the story, I was writing about Carenza and Dryden's mother and I started thinking about mothers in the series - or rather lack of them. To my amazement I realised that none of the younger Gaean characters in Escaflowne is known to have a living mother. Not one!

> Queen Varie (Van and Folken) - missing, presumed dead
> 
> Queen Therese (Marlene, Eries and Millerna) - dead
> 
> Princess Marlene (Prince Chid) - dead
> 
> Encia Schezar (Allen and Celena/Dilandau) - dead
> 
> Mrs. Fassa (Dryden - and thus Carenza) - never mentioned
> 
> Unnamed catwoman (Nariya and Eriya) - dead
> 
> Another unnamed catwoman (Merle) - dead 

Given that my own story focuses on the actions of the characters' fathers, this absence of mothers seems doubly acute. Admittedly several fathers are dead, too, but the living ones are pivotal to the plot. Mothers in Escaflowne seem to exist solely for the purpose of giving birth to characters and then dying so that they can be a cause of angst and/or offer advice from beyond the grave. To me that sucked much more than Folken dying in an attempt to make up for his mistakes. I assume the general lack of living parents is a plot device to force active roles onto the teenage generation, but even so it seemed to me a little excessive. 

Having come up with a non-fatal rationale for the absence of Dryden's mother, I felt inclined to also bring back Varie, since there seems to be no concrete proof that she is dead. Yes, she appears to Van in the Mystic Valley and gives him a strange green energist, but that section of the story is rushed over (a victim of the 'fitting 39 episodes into 26' thing?) and never properly explained. Surely a full Draconian like Varie (I assume she is pure-bred Draconian from her belief in being fated to meet Goau) could do a bit of astral travel from, say, a coma? With Varie alive and a Zaibach captive, the stage was set for a dramatic plot twist that would end my story on a more optimistic note.

Hope you enjoyed the ride - I know I did!

Nariya


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